Darkest Hour
by WinterSunshine
Summary: She thought she could overcome her nature, but when a simple paper cut threatens his very life, she is finally forced to realize it's time to leave... Edythe's perspective of what might have occurred in New Moon, if Life and Death had ended on the original Twilight note.
1. Preface

"I wanted nothing but silence, black woods, decay, cold winds; to lie twisted and turned as a serpent, to be in unison with a dying earth."

-Segovia Amil

…

I really should have been afraid. There should have been some semblance of intuition inside my stagnant, unchanging body that feared this looming death.

But I was not afraid.

In fact, I felt nothing—nothing except the urge for everything to stop.

Perhaps I hadn't realized just how much pain I'd been in while Beau was still alive. Perhaps part of me couldn't bear to take myself away from him, despite the fact we'd been worlds apart for months now. Perhaps my small vestige of self-preservation had been as thin as a thread, as frail as the mortal, transitory life of the human boy I'd left behind more than half a year ago—but had never stopped loving, even for a moment.

On either side of me, the tall, foreboding vampires moved silently across the silver-soaked cobblestones. My skin glowed dimly in the silver bath of the moon, as did the walking stones underneath our soundless feet. Their skin did not catch the rays of the moon—their faces were hidden behind the veil of their thick, velvet cloaks.

Their thoughts, however, were not hidden.

 _Why does she do it…? I don't understand…_ The first one was thinking.

 _I hope she takes a stand,_ the second yearned. _She doesn't look like much, though… Hmm… How disagreeable. I've been waiting so long for one to fight back._

Neither one of the sentries knew what my fate would be. Sulpicia, Marcus and Athenodora had made this decision on their own, and I awaited their verdict with great expectancy. I could not say I was eager to know what Sulpicia would say, but I could say I welcomed it.

Nothing about me was eager now—anticipatory of the end, yes, but there was no hint of excitement left in the frozen shell of my body.

I just wanted the pain to end. But to call it 'pain' did not do it justice. Pain was something that was merely temporary, to be avoided, or, if it could not be, at least endured.

This kind of torment was entirely unendurable. I could not tolerate it.

Not only was it anguish to think of Beau dead, to realize that _I_ was the reason he was dead, but there was something else not so easily explained. The absence of his precious, pure life was a void, a black, sucking hole, in the center of my chest. I could not escape the ghastly hollowness, I could not see around it; I could not overcome it.

There was nothing, now. Nothing to do, nowhere to go, no one to be. I was absolutely _nothing_ without Beau. My mind and heart had already died with the knowledge of his death. All that was left to accomplish was the physical death of my body.

The larger, more well-muscled vampire of the two, Fern, stepped forward to pull open the elaborate chamber doors in front of us, and I stepped forward, to attend my execution.

…

 **A/N:** Just a short little preview of what's to come! See you all soon! xo


	2. Party

**A/N:** Hey, lovelies!

Still listening to "Slow Dancing In A Burning Room" because it's relatable as… Well, you know.

I'm so excited to get into this, and also a little nervous. New Moon, especially from Edythe's perspective, is wont to be a little dark, so… We'll see. What did ya think of the preface?

 _DISCLAIMER:_ New Moon belongs to SM, and all its characters, canon world and alternative. Plot-line and characters all belong to her! (Also, I'm using various ff authors' pieces for chronological reference, so I can't take TOTAL credit for that, either.)

Alas! Enjoy!

…

Purgatory wasn't so bad when you got to spend it with an angel.

So far—and it was only the second week of September—this school year had been much different from the last eighty-odd slogs through my senior semesters of high school. It was quite an altered perspective, viewing it in this light. With Beau to guide me through, it all looked very different than it had before. No longer did I sit inertly in my seat and long for the passage of time; now I wished it would pass in a slower fashion, so that I could steal more time from the love of my life.

The final weeks of junior year had been bliss, the summer months had been bliss, and these first two weeks of senior year had been bliss—all due to the credit of one outstanding human being: Beau Swan.

It was truly a miracle that the natural and supernatural occurrences of life had not separated us by now. It had only been months ago that a tracking nomad by the name of Joss had threatened his very life. It had not been without the utmost of effort that I had reached him in time to save him; and not only had I arrived on scene in time to spare his life, but I had been forced to face the very demon inside myself that I'd been battling for months.

The very first day I'd met Beau, I'd almost killed him due to the murderous temptation for his blood that had gripped me. It had been an enticement I'd wrestled with for weeks on end, all the while discovering that I was very much in love with the human boy whose life I'd craved to take that very first day.

It was this animal I'd had to face in the ballet studio that fated day. The small villain, Joss, had just barely nipped the end of his finger, amongst the varying tortures she'd inflicted upon him, and as a result, she'd injected her venomous poison into his system, and thus, the transformation from mortal to immortal had begun to occur.

My only option left, if I wanted to spare him his human life, had been to stare all of my monsters, all of my demons, my worst nightmares, directly in the face. Somehow, I'd managed to put my lips to his skin, to take the precious source of his lifeblood into my mouth, to swallow it down, in order to save him. Somehow, I'd pulled the venom from his system before it had reached the point of no return, all the while losing myself in the process, desiring only to taste more of the succulent ambrosia.

Only my love for the very frail, broken boy beneath me had saved him. For whatever reason, I was able to bring myself back, to pull away and stop the feeding in its tracks—a task unimaginably insurmountable for most vampires. Like sharks, when the taste of blood met our tongues, an unstoppable feeding frenzy was sure to begin; even now, I did not know how I'd been able to bring myself to halt it.

Thus, Beau had survived human—though he tended to remind me of the fact often, including how close he'd come to surviving as something else entirely.

There wasn't much we argued over, then or now, but the one point of argumentation had stuck: The matter of Beau's future. He wanted to spend it immortal and by my side, for the rest of forever if he got his way. And I was set on spending the rest of _his_ forever by his side, sitting alongside him as he grew and changed and matured, until the sweet release of death by old age took him from me. Because that was the way things _should_ be, the way things would have likely happened if I had not forced my black shadow on his poor, blameless soul.

After that first wretched day I'd fled the temptation of his blood. I'd only been able to stay away for a matter of days, and when I'd come back, I had very abruptly been caught up in the odd, silent mannerisms of Beau's daily life. For, of all the humans and non-humans alike I had ever met, Beau was the only being I'd ever come across whose thoughts I could not read.

Despite this fact, or possibly because of it, I found myself very taken with the pale, blue-eyed human boy. I found myself fixed on the way he interacted with the students and teachers around him, with a fascination that was unmatched to anything I'd ever experienced before.

Quickly, I fell for Beau Swan, and all possibility of doing what was right, of leaving him to his very normal, very happy life, had been vanquished.

And, so, here we were—four odd months later, and I had all but given up any possibility of taking moral action. It was something I simply could not, would not, exonerate in myself.

 _He's almost here,_ Archie thought now, his inner voice exuberant and thrilled. Of course, I already knew this—I could hear Beau's deathtrap of a clanking engine from a mile away.

My favorite brother and I were the only two of the Cullens still in high school. In keeping up with appearances, Jess, Eleanor and Royal had all graduated last year and had 'gone off to college'.

Jessamine, of course, lingered at the Cullen abode, a short trip out of town, because she would not go anywhere without Archie. The bond of a mated vampire was very, very difficult to break, and one was likely not to go someplace without the other. I knew this from experience. Every hour that I was forced to spend without Beau—such as when I was forced to hunt, or the dragging evening hours whilst Beau spent time with his father at the dinner table—caused me physical pain, building to the acute point of agony if too much time passed between our reunions.

This made doing the right thing fundamentally more difficult.

Eleanor and Royal were currently off on another honeymoon to South Africa, but they'd arrived home late last night to surprise Beau for his birthday.

"Please," I muttered to my brother now, "Don't cause him too much distress."

Archie snorted, and knocked me with his elbow. "Edy, don't _worry_ ," he cajoled, "He'll have a great time at the party."

I turned to appraise him. We were standing in Forks High School's small student parking lot, waiting for my love to arrive before the school day ensued. Now, I arched an eyebrow at my 'favorite' brother—which was a title that tended to warble at times, especially in these past few months.

Needless to say, as far as sides went, Beau had Archie on his.

"He hasn't agreed to go yet," I reminded my brother now, "I hope you haven't gotten _too_ needlessly carried away."

But of course, I could see immediately in his thoughts that he had. There was a theme and everything.

"Archie…"

He folded his arms across his chest and glared down at me. "Don't ruin this for me, Edy."

"For _you_?"

I opened my mouth to begin my tirade, but just then, Beau turned off the main road, and into the parking lot. My annoyance with Archie was suddenly replaced with joy, unfiltered and very potent, as I took in the face of my one true love. No matter how often I was graced with his countenance, his strikingness took me off guard every time. I didn't know how it was possible for his eyes to look bluer every time I saw them, especially with my perfect eyesight and flawless recall.

As he parked his truck in a free space one row over, I allowed my gaze to linger on the perfect sculpt of his cheekbones and jaw, the straight edge of his nose, the perfect bow-shape of his lips, the subtle dimple in his chin… And the firm broadness of his shoulders and chest, hidden under the shapeless black rain jacket he wore.

He grabbed his bag off the bench seat beside him and swung his long, enchanting body out of the truck. When he slammed the door behind him, a shower of rust specks drifted to settle on the wet asphalt.

I had tried numerous times to convince him that it really was no problem to buy him a better car, but Beau being Beau, he would not be swayed. He held a strange sort of possessive hold over the truck, and seemed to get offended every time I slandered the hulking contraption. I could not understand what he saw in it, but of course, I would respect his wishes. It couldn't be long now, before it gave out on him. And I would be there, ready to replace the vehicle with a much nicer, newer, safer and faster alternative. Of course, Beau could be trusted to obey posted speed limits and road laws—his father _was_ the town's police chief—but it was maddening for me to drive his truck. I _hated_ driving slowly, and I had never experienced a slower ride than the one Beau's ancient, decrepit truck conveyed.

Beau had barely taken two steps toward us before Archie's composure detonated.

"Happy birthday, man!" he crowed, and Beau's face flushed, "The big one-eight! What are you gonna do first? Enlist in the army? Buy a pack of cigarettes?"

" _Dude_!" Beau hissed, drawing his hand across his throat—the universal signal for ' _cut it out_ '—as he glanced at the surrounding students furtively. Of course, he was mortified, for whatever reason. I had discovered the date of his birth with no help of his own—I'd had to read it in his hospital charts last Spring.

Archie just laughed and crossed the lot to meet him halfway, clapping him gently on the shoulder. "What'd you think of the presents from your parents?"

Beau sighed in exasperation as they headed my way. I stayed where I was, standing by the Volvo, though I desired to bound forward with as much enthusiasm as Archie had and wish my love happy birthday wishes of my own. But I knew that would not be met with any sort of enthusiasm on Beau's part, and so I resisted.

"Yeah. They're great," Beau muttered now, eyes fixed on mine.

" _I_ think it was a nice idea. You're only a senior once. Might as well document the experience," he said, shrugging.

"How many times have _you_ been a senior?" he asked him pointedly.

Archie gave him a patronizing look. "That's different."

As they reached me, I extended my hand for his, and he twined his fingers through mine, flooding me with pleasant, irreplaceable warmth. The gaping absence of him closed, the pain of our short separation repaired instantly, and I smiled softly up into his face.

 _Happy birthday, Beau,_ I told him silently. _May you have many, many more._ Aloud, I said, "So, as we discussed earlier, I am not allowed to wish you a happy birthday, is that correct?"

"Um, yeah—that's right," Beau said quietly.

"Hmm…" I narrowed my eyes just slightly in dejection, and reached up to touch his cheek. "Just making sure—you _might_ have changed your mind. Most people seem to enjoy things like birthdays and gifts."

Archie laughed. "Of course he'll enjoy it, Edy," he cut in, resurrecting our former conversation, and I hurled a brief glare at him, too brief for Beau to intercept. "What time will you be at the house?" He turned to Beau now, and Beau glanced down at me, eyes widening in surprise and—I thought—slight horror.

"I'm coming over tonight?"

I softened my next words with a grin, hoping it would placate him. "For the party, of course." Then I turned to Archie. "I'll bring him from Charlie's right after school."

"Hey!" Beau protested, his voice cracking with uneasiness, "I have to work!"

"Already took care of it," Archie interjected, "Called Mrs. Newton up—very nice lady—and got her to switch your shifts around. She told me to tell you 'Happy Birthday'."

Beau's mouth open and closed a couple of times, his eyes wide and face flushed with adorable bewilderment. "I—I," he stuttered, "I still… Well, I, uh… I have English homework. Yeah! English homework… Mrs. Berty wants us to watch _Romeo and Juliet_ before the test on Monday."

Archie rolled his eyes, and then his expression turned hard. He took a step toward Beau, brows pulling down over hard topaz eyes. "Look," he very nearly growled, poking a finger against Beau's sternum, "We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way, but _either way_ —"

I figured this was as good a time to step in as any, and I reached up to pull Archie's finger away from Beau's chest. "Calm down, Archie. Beau can watch a movie if he wants to—it _is_ his birthday."

"What she said," Beau affirmed, nodding decisively at Archie. His eyes glinted with triumph, and I watched with mirth as I continued.

"I'll bring him over around seven. That will give you more time to set up."

Beau's face fell, and Archie laughed, easily appeased.

"Sweet. See ya guys later, then!" He waved jovially, and then headed toward his first class, whistling gaily to himself.

Beau turned to me. "Really, Edythe? I—"

"Shh," I hushed him, stretching up on my toes to silence his protests by brushing my lips, very briefly, against his. "Let's talk about it later. We'll be late for class."

I slid my hand down his arm to wind my fingers through his, and towed him toward the sidewalk.

…

The remainder of the school day passed in quick succession, and once the final bell had rung, Beau and I meandered our way back toward the parking lot.

The students had long-since lost interest in the topic of our coupling, all except for one outstanding exception.

McKayla Newton was still quite bitter over our pairing, and her jealousy was just as sharp as it had been last spring.

 _Yeah, yeah, we get it,_ she thought as she headed sullenly toward her subpar Civic. _You're, like, the snobbiest, most beautiful girl in the school. Had to snag the new boy, too…_

She wasn't quite as over it as the rest of the student body was.

The insipid girl's thoughts irritated me more than was usual, and I huffed a very quiet sigh. No doubt her bitterness was affecting my own mood. The rest of the afternoon would be spent fending off Beau's attempts to avoid his birthday party, and I couldn't say I was looking forward to going against his wishes.

But my brother had his plans, and part of me _did_ want to celebrate Beau's aging with as much fete as was due. He possibly didn't realize the significance of his own aging—or what a herald to his humanity it was. Never had I witnessed a happier birthday; it proved all my wishes and dreams for Beau's life were coming true. We had spent a perfect summer together, and now we were tackling senior year together. My life, at present, could not have been more perfect.

For so long, I'd struggled to overcome my nature—with circumstances how they were, it seemed it wouldn't be such a hard thing to conquer now.

It was an impossible gift to conceive: Beau, happy and human; and still, he wanted me by his side.

Truly, I was receiving the largest blessing I ever could have imagined. He was safe from the tragic half-life I lived, immune to all its impervious downfalls and snares.

Of course, nothing was as it seemed, but with how well these last few months had gone, I was becoming more and more confident with each passing day.

Beau's heel-digging began when we reached his truck and I rounded the hood toward the driver's side.

"Don't I get to drive?" he protested as I held out my hand for the keys, "It is my… Well, you know…"

I arched a brow at him. "I thought we were pretending it _wasn't_ your birthday."

Beau shrugged. "I mean, if it's not my birthday, then I shouldn't have to go that party tonight… Right?"

I sighed in resigned exasperation and rolled my eyes. I stepped back toward him and, very gently, I gripped the lapels of his jacket and pulled myself up so we were pressed cheek to cheek.

"Fine, then," I whispered against the edge of his jaw. "Happy birthday." I felt him shiver.

It took him a moment to recover, and without fail, witnessing the reaction he had to me stirred heady feelings in me all their own. He didn't realize just how much he affected me, truly.

He pulled the passenger door open for me, and I climbed into the seat, already sulking at the long drive ahead of us.

I watched his face as he carefully backed out of his spot and into the line-up of cars waiting at the exit. His brows furrowed over slightly narrowed eyes, full lips fixed in just a very slight scowl, viridian eyes glinting with something more than concentration. He really was delicious…

My throat burned as his scent swirled and thickened in the close quarters around us, and I leaned toward the radio for something to distract myself.

"Your radio has horrible reception," I commented as I fiddled with the dial.

Beau made a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat, and I glanced up at him, amused. In vain, I attempted to suppress my smirk.

"Just a suggestion—maybe drive your own car if you want a top-notch radio."

Beau didn't get upset over much, and in the rare case that it happened, I often had to fight my mirth. Not only were his upsets usually over trivial things, but there was just something about his sullen moods I couldn't pin-point. Whatever the reason was, I found him doubly adorable when he was peeved.

We spent the remainder of the drive in silence, and Beau's sullen expression did not change. As amusing as it was, I knew his anxiety and frustration over the lengths my family had gone and would go through with to celebrate his aging, was a very real thing.

More than anything else, I was sure he was just upset about the prospect of being the center of attention. I didn't give the alternative much thought—that he really was as upset over his aging as he seemed, because it meant another year between us. I didn't think it would do much good to argue that, really, I was a lot older than he was.

When, at long last, Beau parked the truck in Chief Swan's driveway, I slid my body across the bench seat, effectively cancelling out any distance between us.

I reached up to run a single finger across his brow, just above those piercing blue eyes. Underneath them, the vague shade of purple was blooming across his fair features. Hmm, I hadn't noticed that until now… Had he not slept well last night?

"You really should be in a good mood," I murmured now, fixing my gaze on his, "Today of all days." On purpose, I let my breath waft over his face, knowing the calming effect it would have. He responded immediately, his heart rate and respiration tilting into a higher gear. With a subtlety I didn't think was all his own, he automatically leaned closer to me, his eyes flickering to my lips.

"Is that so?" he barely breathed.

"Mhmm," I murmured, trailing my fingertip down the side of his face, under the curve of his jaw, and hooking underneath his sturdy chin. With barely an element of pressure, I pulled his lips to mine.

As always, the reactions were to be expected—both his, and mine.

As always, the first sensation that registered with me when we kissed was the overwhelming heat—the warmth of his plush, soft lips against mine, the vibration of his pulse in the air, against my face, the fire in my throat…

Along with the agony, was the inexplicable pleasure that tended to accompany it… The strange prickling sensation along the surface of my skin, the sudden heaviness in my stomach, the intoxicating distractibility that whirled in my head which urged me to pull myself closer to his warm and soft chest, to wind my arms around his neck and part my lips so I'd be able to taste and smell more of him…

And, also, as always, I didn't know the motives behind these urges. Were they solely based on the need for more of his body, or were there deeper, more instinctual urges behind them?

For that reason, I always had to be very careful when we kissed, no matter how much I didn't _want_ to be.

Of course, Beau was never one for being careful. Before the full heat of his lips on mine had registered, his arms were winding around my waist, pulling himself closer to me, as his lips parted against mine. He panted raggedly against my mouth, one hand sweeping up my back, his fingers winding through the long locks of my free-falling hair.

I shivered, his warm hands a soothing balm to the infernal angst inside me. In these past few months, Beau had made me more human than I ever thought would be possible. And though, before, I had always assumed humans to be pathetic, superficial beings, Beau was so different from all of my former imaginings. Not only was he a far greater, stronger, more selfless creature than even I could have imagined, but he incited the same swell of feelings inside of me.

Beau Swan made me feel invincible, completely able to take on the entire world—and that was a very, very dangerous thing, especially where physical intimacy was concerned. Because, in all reality, I was just not that strong.

With that realization, I carefully disengaged myself from his zealous embrace, bringing both hands alongside his face in order to restrain him.

We stayed very still for a long moment, foreheads pressed together, as Beau emitted ragged, panting breaths across my cheeks, lips and nose. Carefully, I inhaled and exhaled, allowing his fragrance to swirl, blisteringly, inside my throat.

"Sorry," he finally gasped.

I pulled back and opened my eyes, finding him watching me. The blue in his was muddled and unfocused, even a little dazed.

I gave him a very small smile.

"I see you haven't learned to be good yet," I murmured.

He smiled a beautiful, charming smile. "I'm working on it."

I laughed, and pushed open my door. "Come on, let's go watch a foolish, catastrophic movie."

"Sounds good to me."

Inside, I curled up on the couch while Beau got the movie cued up on the small, living room TV. When he came to sit by me, I pulled the afghan off the back of the couch and tucked it around his shoulders. Then, I draped my legs across his and curled against his chest, my favorite place to be.

Beau's arms came around my shoulders, his fingers toying with my hair.

The credits began, and as Romeo appeared on screen, my annoyance got the best of me.

"I never really cared for this Romeo character," I admitted quietly, "I always found him to be foolishly disgraceful."

Beau glanced down at me, his brow furrowing. "Why?"

"Shall I name the reasons?" I sat up so I could look into his face. "First, there's this other woman, Rosaline. Very quick to give up that little love affair, wasn't he? It makes him seem so indecisive, so changeable! Second, only a few minutes after their wedding, he kills Juliet's cousin! _That_ wasn't very wise of him, now was it?" I shook my head, exasperated. "Not to mention, it is very easy to assume that he completely took advantage of Juliet. She was, what, thirteen? Barely old enough to make liable decisions for her self, I think, and here our Romeo is—taking complete advantage of that! He sees something he wants and decides to just pluck it up for his own selfish gain, heedless of the consequences!"

Beau shook his head and refocused on the screen. "It's just a play," he said, "Y'know, made up in Shakespeare's imagination? Not real."

I shook my head. "Regardless," I insisted, "There are people like that out there who exist." Intent on taking advantage of the poor, innocent beings for their own selfish gains… Unprecedented in their thoughtless decisions, intent on seeing them through regardless of the outcome… So absorbed in pursuing their own happiness—all the while not realizing that they're destroying any semblance of a chance of it… It was deplorable, really.

Gradually, as the scenes played out on the screen in front of us, I began to draw a strange parallel between Romeo's character and myself. Deplorable, foolish beings—intent on getting their own pleasure, no matter the cost of others…

I fell quiet as the movie played, the churning black waters of self-hatred and doubt rising up inside me again.

I tried to reason with myself. I was not making Beau sacrifice anything, in this arrangement. He was still living his innocent, pure human life. I was simply joining him, walking alongside him through it. Hadn't I made sure to do my best to prevent anything awful happening? Hadn't I made it clear I would do anything to make him safe?

I had, and I would—and I _was_. In fact, I was being quite successful with it.

I did not forge through with my decisions without thought—in fact, I thought them through to death.

But still, as I drew these conclusions, there remained a part deep inside of me, that wrapped its fist tightly around the self-flagellation, the sense of wrongness, of selfish gain… For the first time in a long time, I found myself wondering if what I was doing was right.

The pivotal scene in the movie approached at last, as Romeo found his Juliet, asleep in the crypt. As Juliet woke from her herb-induced slumber to find her husband dead, I spoke without thinking.

"I do sort of envy them here," I admitted softly.

Beau gave me a look like he was questioning my sanity.

"The ease of the suicide," I clarified, as if it were required. "You have to admit, humans have it rather easy. Just a small vial of plant extracts, a shallow dagger, and it's done with…"

"What are you talking about?" Beau demanded, his tone thick with mysticism.

It was very nearly fathomless to me, that Beau did not understand the depth of my feelings for him. Was it not obvious? I sifted through my thoughts, organizing them so I could speak with some semblance of order.

"It was something I had to think about once," I said softly, the black day of Beau's near-death needling my mind with disturbing clarity. I heard my tone sour, in conjunction with the memory. "I knew from Carine's experience that it wouldn't be easy… Our kind is not so easily done away with…"

"Wait—" Beau interjected, his tone sharp. His tone, as well as his face, was exceedingly distressed, and I could see now, that enclosing my thoughts had not been a good idea. "What do you mean you had to think about it once?"

I took a breath and braced myself against the traumatic memory. "Last Spring… When you were nearly… Killed." I could still see it, so clearly—Beau, lying broken and dying, in a puddle of blood and bile, the horrendous battle between wrong and right, between the monster and my love for the fading boy in front of me… I remembered the horrendous race from the airport, and wondering what I would do with myself if I arrived too late to save him… "Of course, we were doing our best to find you alive, but part of my mind was making… Contingency plans. Like I said, it's not as easy for me as it is for your kind…"

"Contingency plans?" he echoed, breathless. He stared, wide-eyed, at my face, the movie forgotten now.

I huffed, frustrated that I had to spell it out so clearly. "It was something I had to do, Beau… You don't think I was going to live without you, do you?" He opened his mouth to speak, but I ignored him, pushing on. "But I wasn't sure how to go about it. I knew El and Jess wouldn't help me… So I was thinking something along the lines of going to the Volturi in Italy, and provoke them somehow."

The Volturi had more than enough power and substance to do away with me quickly. Carine had witnessed Sulpicia's matriarchy and power over a century ago, and it only stood to reason that they'd grown in supremacy since then. I would be nothing but a vague annoyance, snuffed like damp fingers on the wick of a candle. My flame would have been extinguished with hardly an effort.

"What's a Volturi?" Beau whispered now.

"The Volturi are a very regal, very old family." They were more a coven, banded together by similar mindsets rather than by any form of emotional bond, but it was a term he would be able to understand. "They are the closest thing our kind has to royalty, presumably. Carine lived with them briefly, in the early seventeenth century, before she came to America. Do you remember the story?"

Expressionless, Beau nodded.

"No one wants to cross the Volturi," I said now. "They rule over the vampire world and ensure that the most important rule of all, stays intact—more like a law, actually. That our existence remains a secret. If anyone is to breech that injunction in any way, they will surely and swiftly be executed."

Beau's hands came up to cradle my face. His eyes were fierce and steely as he leaned in close.

"Listen," he said fiercely, "You can't just… Run off and kill yourself if something bad happens to me, got it?"

I could only stare calmly back at him. What he didn't know was that it was a foregone conclusion. He didn't know how closely together our existences were tied. Where before we'd been two separate people, now my soul, or life, or essence—whichever term one wanted to use—was wound like a braid through his. If… _When_ … He died, there would be nothing else for me to do… Barring anything but old age, it was a useless point to argue, as I was determined never to put him in danger again, regardless.

"What if something happened to you?" he continued on now, his words frantic, "Would you want me to pull a _Romeo and Juliet_?"

I could see it, suddenly, the image in my mind—my cold, lifeless body, and Beau, crouched, sobbing, over me… Tipping the small vial of poison past his lips… I cringed away from the painful imagery.

I blinked, and refocused on the alive, well and whole Beau who sat in front of me, now. I looped my arms around his neck and pulled myself to his soft, warm chest. I felt each throb of his heartbeat, the proclamation of his humanity.

"No," I admitted, resting my head on his shoulder, "I wouldn't want you to do such a thing." Then I sighed. "It's a moot point, anyway. Nothing's going to happen to you. I won't allow it."

I felt Beau's hand softly stroke the back of my hair, and I closed my eyes, timing my breaths to the thump of his heartbeats.

Just then, Charlie's muted, foggy thoughts interrupted our quiet moment, and I sat up, swinging my body sideways so that I was sitting beside him on the couch. My etiquette, after all, was still intact.

Charlie came through the door then with dinner, finding us on the couch together.

"Hey, kids," he greeted us.

"Hi, Dad."

"Good afternoon, Chief."

Charlie wagged a playful finger at me, narrowing his eyes. "Hey, now. What did I tell you? Call me Charlie."

I grinned at him. "Charlie," I amended.

After the two had eaten, and after saving Beau's new digital camera from a collision with the floor, we headed out to the truck.

He allowed me to drive this time, thank the stars for small favors.

I kept my hand in his on the seat between us while we drove out of town and headed for the party.

"Hey," Beau protested, "Don't push her."

The truck whined in protest to my overzealous foot.

I sighed. "You know what you would love, Beau? A nice Audi cabriolet. Very quiet, lots of power." _And speed._

Beau sighed in exasperation. This wasn't the first time we'd had this discussion. "My truck is fine," he groaned, "And besides, what did I tell you about expensive gifts? Speaking of which—you didn't spend anything on me tonight, did you?"

"Not a dime," I promised.

"Good."

I rolled my eyes as I turned off onto the driveway. "Can you do me a favor?"

He regarded me with suspicious eyes. "I'm not making any promises until I hear what it is."

I looked over at him. "The last real birthday we celebrated was Eleanor in 1935, so if you could just… Be tolerable, tonight, and let them have their fun…" Well, nearly all of them would have fun tonight…

Beau sighed, and the expression on his face melted into surprise. I wondered, briefly, what he'd been thinking I would ask of him? "Okay," he said easily.

"And I should warn you," I cautioned him, "When I say them, I mean _all_ of them…"

"All?" he repeated, slightly aghast. "But I thought Eleanor and Royal were in Africa…"

I shrugged. "El wanted to be here for the party."

"And… Royal?"

I flinched. If Royal so much as hissed in Beau's direction, there would be hell to pay for him. Specifically in the form of his mechanics tools… "He'll be on his best behavior tonight, I promise."

Beau sighed quietly, and I could hear the apprehension in his exhalation. I reached over to squeeze his hand, and tried to lighten the mood.

"So. If I can't interest you in the Audi, can I get you anything _else_ for your birthday?" I regretted the question before I was even finished speaking.

Beau turned our hands over—my responses to his unspoken requests were so instinctive now, I didn't even need to think them through—and traced the bluish vein on the inside of my wrist with his thumb. I shivered in delight, but my mood abruptly fell when he spoke.

"I think you know what I want."

His words were like a knife in my heart. His eighteenth birthday was the balancing point upon which our impasse rested—the marking of time that made him distinctively human, and the age I would never reach, trapped in this immortal seventeen year old body. All summer long he'd asked and cajoled and begged, and all summer long I'd denied, argued and repudiated.

He held no regard for the costs of a vampiric existence—the isolation, the pillaging, unmatched thirst for blood, the boredom, the moral dilemma. He argued our love was enough—that it could somehow atone for the damnation and the depravity.

I had wheedled and disputed, contended and pleaded, for him to understand that this sort of hell was no place for him. But he just wouldn't accept it.

"Please, Beau. I don't want to fight tonight…"

"It's gonna happen eventually—Archie's seen it."

I felt my face harden to stone, and my teeth locked together furiously. "It's not going to happen," I snarled. "And don't you _dare_ ask him. Archie knows better."

I would have to circumvent that possibility and speak with my brother before Beau got any ideas—and Carine as well. I wanted my entire family on the same page—they were not to agree to any sort of negotiation that Beau could come up with.

Our argument was abruptly cut short when we pulled up in front of the brightly lit house. I attempted to quell my frustration as I focused on the thoughts of my family inside.

All of their contemplations were anticipatory and excited—all except for one.

 _This is so stupid,_ Royal thought sullenly.

Of course, Archie had gone much too far with the decorations. The porch eaves were overwhelmed with red fairy lights, and black and white balloons.

"You've got to be kidding me," Beau groaned.

 _Just wait until you see the inside,_ I thought as I put the truck in park and pulled the keys out of the ignition.

"Do remember, Beau—this is a party. So try to be a good sport."

"Sure," he muttered unenthusiastically, eyes glued to the decorations on the front porch.

I got out of the truck and led him up the front steps. He dragged a little behind as I pulled him through the door.

"Happy birthday, Beau!" everyone chorused when we stepped inside, where more over-the-top, ostentatious decorum was piled around the room. Black drapes over the windows, strung through with more red fairy lights, more black and white balloons, and a black-clothed table on the platform by my piano, showcasing a huge chocolate cake and a small pile of gifts wrapped in black paper.

On cue, Beau's face flooded with embarrassed color, and as the door swung shut behind us, my family's thoughts quickly reoriented around the trained discipline of vegetarian vampires.

The motion of the door had stirred up a draft of Beau's fragrance, sending it wafting across the room toward them, and when his fragrance registered with each member of my family, the bands of their self-restraint tightened.

The family member who endured the most, of course, was Jessamine. She stood by the stairs, and curled her fingers around the top of the newel post as each reaction of my family members hit her full-force.

It wasn't enough that she was the newest member to our way of life, that she was still working on her self-control around humans, but Jessamine was also burdened with a gift—or sometimes, like now—a curse that allowed her to both feel and influence the emotions of a crowd of people around her.

So the assault of Beau's scent was even more disturbing to her, strengthened six-fold, as it was.

 _I'm fine, I'm fine,_ she assured me as my eyes fixed on her face. Annoyance flared in her thoughts as she intercepted the wary glances the rest of my family threw her way as well.

 _She'll be fine, Edy, give her a break,_ Archie cut in, the only one who hadn't even glanced in his wife's direction. From where he stood at her side, he gave her waist a quick, reassuring squeeze.

"Sorry about this, Beau," Earnest said now, stepping forward to very gently clap my love on the shoulder, "We just couldn't reign Archie in. He finds any excuse for festivities."

Archie grinned widely, unabashed.

Carine reached in to wrap an affectionate arm around Beau's shoulders, her thoughts filled with acceptance and love. She thought of him as just as much a son as she perceived Archie and Royal to be.

"Welcome here, Beau," she said, smiling. It wasn't as difficult for her to touch Beau as it was for everyone else, "It's good to see you, as always."

"Thanks. You, too, Carine," Beau said.

Royal and Eleanor were standing just past Carine and Earnest, and they stepped forward now. I was pleased to find that Royal was not glaring—in fact, he'd reigned in his expression rather well. Eleanor, on the other hand, was beaming, her entire face aglow.

"You haven't changed at all, kid," she teased, still smiling, "I was expecting to see a distinguishable difference, but here you are—just as scrawny and red-faced as ever."

In all actuality, Eleanor had noticed every single change that had elapsed over the course of her time away. His hair had grown half an inch, due for a trim. The features of his face had hardened into a more masculine arrangement, and his figure had filled out just slightly, his plain white t-shirt fitting just marginally snugger against his chest.

 _And still human_ , she noted with just a hint of surprise.

I glared at her, an expression she didn't intercept.

"Thanks a lot," Beau muttered, ears red with obvious mortification.

She laughed gamely. "I have to step out for a minute—something to take care of." She threw a very apparent wink Archie's way—I'd bet not even Beau missed it. "Try not to do anything funny while I'm gone, like trip over your own feet or something."

"I'll try not to," Beau muttered sarcastically.

 _Wish I could see the look on his face when he opens the empty box,_ she thought, chuckling to herself as she headed for the door.

I watched Beau glance across the room toward the stairs, where Archie and Jessamine were still standing. When Archie stepped forward to greet Beau, Jess hung back. The two exchanged polite smiles, Jess's thoughts careful and apologetic.

"Okay," Archie called loudly, clapping his hands together decisively. "Present time!"

He towed Beau by the elbow over to the table by the piano and tossed the first gift at him. Of course, Beau fumbled it, and the package toppled toward the floor.

I grasped it out of the air before it hit the ground, and passed it to Beau, glaring at my brother.

"You did that on purpose," I accused under my breath.

 _Maybe, maybe not._ He smirked, having way too much fun, in my opinion.

I noted the stack of glass plates behind the cake, and it suddenly occurred to me that Archie may be so into this party charade that he might just make us eat the cake, too. I _really_ hoped not.

"I seem to remember telling you guys not to get me anything," Beau said now, glaring at my brother.

"And _obviously_ we ignored you," Archie retorted smugly. "Now open it."

Beau sighed. "Fine," he grumbled, as if the act would cause him actual pain. He carefully read the tag, and then ripped the paper away from the package. His brow creased just slightly as he examined the long string of numbers and letters on the label. I pressed my lips together to suppress my laughter as he took a second look, actually squinting as he reread the model's name.

When he opened the box and found it empty, the adorable bewilderment grew. This time, I couldn't help but laugh.

"Uh, thanks?" he mumbled, mystified.

Jess joined in on my laughter, and Royal actually cracked a grin.

 _He has no idea!_ he enthused, finding Beau's cluelessness hilarious.

"It's a stereo for your truck," Jessamine explained, "Eleanor's installing it as we speak, so I'm afraid you won't be able to get a refund."

Surprising me, Beau grinned, appearing pleased. "Thanks, guys," he said, "That's great. Thanks, Eleanor!" he added in a louder voice. Eleanor laughed loudly from out front, and he joined in on the laughter, chuckling lowly.

I shifted a little closer to the object of my extreme affection, my heart lifting in conjunction with his mood. Pleasure washed through me at the sight of Beau enjoying himself. To see him happy warmed me in ways not even pure sunlight could.

"Next is mine and Edy's," Archie said, picking a smaller package off the top and practically shoving it in Beau's face.

Immediately, he turned accusatory eyes on me. "You said you didn't get me anything," he grumbled.

"I didn't buy you a thing," I assured him, pleased with myself. He'd told me I couldn't purchase him a gift for his birthday. He'd never said anything about homemade presents, and I was happy to have found a loophole. If the ten-cent jewel case counted toward anything, I could safely say it hadn't been my doing. It had been Archie who had made that purchase.

Just then, Eleanor bounded back into the great room, crowding in between Jess and Royal, who had both moved closer to get a better look. Even Roy couldn't deny the anticipation of seeing Beau's reaction to this one.

The glimmer of compassionate excitement was so brief in my brother's mind that I almost thought I'd missed it.

Beau sighed, holding up the gift, inspecting it with careful, suspicious eyes. Then he slipped his thumb underneath the folded edge of the paper, to rip the seam.

It happened over the length of one of Beau's heartbeats. As he jerked his finger, the thin membrane of his skin gave way to the startlingly sharp edge of the wrapping paper.

Before the microscopic drop of blood had touched the parquet floor beneath us, the thinly veiled monster inside me exploded into life. My vision blurred for a fraction of a second as the exposed aroma of his scent coalesced into a flavor on the back of my tongue—the flavor of pure ecstasy.

"Shoot," Beau muttered softly, pulling his hand closer to examine the fresh cut, and the sound of his voice broke me from my monstrous reverie. Immediately, I stopped my breathing. The action brought no respite, but the sensory deprivation was enough to grasp for a thread of self-control in this ill-fated instant.

I was contained enough to register the thoughts of my family around me—Carine, Earnest, Archie, Royal and Eleanor immediately cut off their breathing as well, though their thirst raged. They were practiced enough in their restraint to battle back the urge to taste the beads of spilled blood. Their thirst and temptation didn't hold a candle to the flame that mine was, but of course, Beau's blood _was_ sweeter than usual.

Jessamine, however, did not have enough practice to contain herself in a moment such as this one.

I saw the vision, superimposed in Archie's mind, half a second before it came to fruition—Jessamine, leaping across the expanse of space between her and Beau, fingers curling in his hair, jerking his head back so quickly his spine would snap, teeth making contact with the fragile skin of his throat…

" _No!_ " I shrieked, using up most of the air that remained in my lungs.

I was not fast enough to turn on my sister, or take a defensive stance in front of Beau. I acted on pure instinct as Jessamine lurched forward, her thoughts incoherent and hazy red—focused only on the scent of the human blood, possessiveness and bloodlust coursing through her like wildfire.

Without time to think fully through my actions, my only solution was to push Beau away, out of the path of my suddenly ravenous sister. I felt the soft tissue of his body cave around my stone arm as I struck him across his midsection, sending him sailing backwards.

At that moment, Jessamine collided with me, where I stood like a stone wall between her razor sharp teeth, and the soft, defenseless skin of my lover.

It was as if, in this moment, Jessamine's mindset had reverted back to that of a newborn. There was no focus other than the thirst for her, now. Just as I secured my arms around her, pinning hers to her sides, I heard a horrible crash behind me, and Jessamine's chaotic struggling increased.

I couldn't wonder what that meant, right now.

Beyond reason, beyond logical thought, she snapped at me, reeling with thirst, in an attempt to get past me, to Beau. Her mind revved, an incoherent engine, hungry for blood, as she processed the violent carnage behind me—Beau, lying in a pile of shattered glass, splinters embedded in the skin of his arms, more blood coursing down those arms.

The imagined scent of his blood was so strong in Jessamine's mind that I could almost taste it—though her dreams were nothing compared to what it actually tasted like.

The ceaseless, blistering fire exploded in my throat, filling my chest and stomach. I gulped back the venom, which inundated my mouth, and channeled the curling tense of my muscles into restraining my insane-with-thirst sister.

I hurled her back, away from the human boy I protected, and she twisted in the air, landing on her feet. She tensed, leaping again, but her feet were only an inch off the floor when Eleanor ensnared her in the steel vice of her arms and yanked her back.

In Archie's mind, I saw that Eleanor would be successful in separating Jess from the accident scene, and I was no longer worried about her approach. She continued to thrash wildly against Eleanor's restrictive grasp, eyes fixed hungrily on Beau's face.

As I turned halfway toward him, I realized I wasn't only fighting the savage workings of my sister's fractured mind; but I was also fighting against the monster inside myself. The venom nearly overflowed my lips, my stomach panged hollowly, and my muscles were still tense. I felt my body prepare to curl, unconsciously, into a hunting crouch, and I had to fight to keep myself erect.

All in a horrible moment, all the work I'd done had come undone—everything I'd worked for and strived for, ruined.

…

 **A/N:** So sorry, guys! I really wanted to get this posted last night—I know how much of a teaser that preface was, but this took me a little longer to get out. I've been pretty busy, and I took, like, a weeklong hiatus just to regroup and recharge. But I'm back now!

What did ya think? Let me know if you've got a sec! See you all next time! xo

Oh! And the Darkest Hour playlist is up over at 8tracks! Go check it out, if you'd like!

/wintersunshine/darkest-hour


	3. Shattered

**A/N:** Thanks for waiting so long (on my terms) for this one again, readers! I've been taking this one slower, as life has picked back up to normal now. I hope you're not suffering too much while you wait for updates! :D

Go listen to "So Cold" by Ben Cocks—more the emotion/feel of the song rather than the lyrics—was elemental in this chapter. It's not on my 8tracks playlist (Darkest Hour—username, wintersunshine… go check it out!) but it should be! I should definitely add it in.

…

Eleanor's thoughts were strong and steady as she dragged a snarling, lashing Jessamine backwards, toward the door.

Royal's thoughts were an odd mix of anger and satisfied arrogance. _I knew this would happen sooner or later,_ he thought as he moved to help his wife wrestle our seething sister outside, _Maybe now you'll finally see the impossibility of your situation._

I snarled savagely at him from where I crouched stiffly in front of Beau, foolishly using most of my stored breath, but my brother only ignored me.

Eleanor, Jess and Royal disappeared through the back door, out onto the porch. Earnest quickly followed, one hand clapped over his nose and mouth, ensuring his airways were cut off.

"Sorry, Beau," he apologized, clear torment in his eyes, as he followed the others. As much as he wanted to stay and help, the scent of Beau's blood was getting to him—he could recognize the familiar fracturing of his mind, and he needed to remove himself to keep Beau safe. I appreciated my father's efforts.

"Let me see him, Edythe," Carine spoke lowly now, and I stiffened. The protective instinct inside me was strong, unrelenting, but after a moment, I realized this was my mother who was speaking to me, and I knew she wouldn't harm Beau. _I need to assess his injury,_ she insisted, and I nodded, relaxing my position.

Carine knelt down in the fractured splinters of glass around Beau, who lay on the ground, propped up on one elbow. His face was blank with unmitigated horror, and most of the color had drained out of his cheeks.

I stood back, allowing Carine to do her work.

 _Vitals are strong,_ she noted, _No symptoms of acute shock… He'll need stitches, but other than that, he appears to be all right._

I tuned her thoughts out, focusing on what was going on inside my own mind. Now that the immediate threat had passed, I was the only one left standing between Beau and his own safety. Again, my throat detonated into blistering flames, and I swallowed hard against the possessive, unrelenting urge to feed.

Furiously, I battled the clawing animal behind my ribcage.

"Here, Carine," Archie said now, passing her a kitchen towel.

But Carine shook her head at him. "Too much glass in the wound," she murmured quietly. _He'll be fine, Edythe—I'm sure of it. Once I stop the bleeding and suture the laceration, he'll be right as rain. Are_ you _okay?_

I couldn't answer her—I did not have extra air to answer foolish questions, and I was too afraid to take even the most shallow of breaths, for fear of releasing the monster inside.

I watched numbly, unable to do anything, as Carine reached for the tablecloth and tore off a long strip.

Even Archie, who was battling his own temptation, was of more help to Carine than I could be, frozen with shock and stress as I was. I watched Carine twist the ribbon of fabric around Beau's upper arm, tying it tightly to staunch the bleeding—forming a quick and efficient tourniquet.

"Beau," she said to him now, "Do you want me to drive you to the emergency room, or would you like me to take care of your arm here?"

I knew what he would say before he uttered the words, as did Carine.

"Here is fine," he barely breathed. If it were possible, he was even paler than he had been before, his lips tight and bleached around the edges. His eyes swam, unfocused and dazed. Carine was prepared to support his frame if he were to lose consciousness.

Of course he wanted Carine to treat him here—of course he would insist on putting himself in the path of even _more_ danger by remaining on the premises.

"I'll get your bag, Carine," Archie offered, and dashed up the stairs to Carine's office. The strength of his thirst was formidable, but the compassion and commitment for his best friend was stronger.

Deep loathing and shame lanced through me. Wasn't my bond with Beau so much stronger than mere friendship? Wasn't I compassionate and committed enough to battle back my urges as well as Archie had? Was I really so weak?

"Help me get him to the kitchen table, Edythe," Carine said now.

Clenching my teeth against the flow of venom, I knelt down to pull Beau off the floor. Carine steadied him on the other side and we carried him into the immaculate kitchen. I knew if I were breathing, I would be able to detect the notes of lemon furniture polish and bleach on the vacant, spotless countertops. But I did not breathe—for I knew if I did so, the only thing I would be able to smell was the ecstatic aroma of Beau's blood, which was slowly ceasing to flow from the open gash in his arm.

Archie was already waiting. He'd plugged in a bright desk lamp and had Carine's bag ready on the table.

I eased Beau carefully into a chair, and Carine pulled up another.

My head whirled with temptation and instinct, heartbreak and fury. I stood stiffly over my love, beating back the scattered, swirling thoughts and emotions inside my head. Beau needed me right now. He was in pain, and probably terrified. It would be far too selfish to leave now, even if I was struggling.

Carine adjusted his arm on top of the table, and I watched a dribble of blood snake down the soft part of his wrist and puddle on the tabletop. My stomach clenched hungrily.

Outside, Jessamine was wailing, begging to be set free of her captors. Eleanor did not relent, keeping her arms locked firmly around our sister. Jessamine's thoughts were heavy with shame and mortification, regret and remorse. There was no remaining instinct for the hunt in her mind now—she wanted to run and hide, that was all.

Archie stood at the kitchen counter, staring out the window, his thoughts morose and compassionate. He wanted to comfort his wife, but he also recognized that Carine might need him for something—I couldn't quite make out what he was thinking, he was hiding it from me, focusing fixedly on Jessamine's torment.

"I've got this," I whispered to him under my breath, too low and fast for Beau to overhear.

Archie didn't look at me, and he didn't respond to my words. He knew I wouldn't harm Beau in the immediate future, but farther out, everything had gone suddenly and strangely blurry and dim. Even without being able to read his thoughts, it was obvious he was staying because he didn't trust me.

He didn't want Carine alone if I were to lose control.

I hissed some choice rude words at my brother.

Archie turned hard topaz eyes on me. _Why can't I see anything past tonight?_ he demanded. His thoughts were sharp with anger, but there was also an edge of fear in them. He wasn't used to being left blind, especially when it came to his best friend.

"You should go, Edythe," Beau said now, noticing my inner struggle.

"I'm fine," I ground out through my teeth, effectively using up the last of the air that remained stored in my lungs.

"Don't do that," he said, seeing through my façade without effort. "I'll be fine. Carine'll get me stitched up good as new. Go get some air," he suggested.

He flinched as Carine injected him with a local anesthetic. My resolve hardened, and I was composed enough to slide a comforting hand over his broad shoulder.

"I'll stay."

Beau sighed, shaking his head. I was sure he didn't agree with my choice; he probably knew that I was suffering, but I didn't want to leave him.

"Edythe, you may as well go find Jessamine before she gets too far," Carine interceded. "I'm sure she's upset with herself, and I doubt she'll listen to anyone but you right now."

No—it wasn't me she'd want to see; it was Archie she'd want. Besides, I didn't know how much restraint I could practice if I were forced to face her at present.

"Yeah," Beau agreed eagerly now, "Go find Jessamine."

"You might as well do something useful," Archie added. _Tell Jess I'll be along in a sec._

So they were teaming up on me now. I struggled with the indecision, knowing that if I wanted to argue, I would have to take a breath—risking the uncoiling of my tenuous self-control. I couldn't risk that. The flames were already too hot, the lure of his flavor stronger than the pull of gravity.

I didn't move for another half a second, knowing it would be wise for me to leave, hating that it was what I had to do to keep him safe. I could not put into words how much I abhorred my weakness in this moment.

Regardless, I relented, squeezing Beau's shoulder gently before I turned and darted through the kitchen door. I was across the lawn and to the river before Beau's heart had beat twice.

Jessamine was miserable—her thoughts swirled relentlessly, a wild vortex of shame and remorse.

 _I could have killed him,_ she lamented, _He was terrified!_

Anxiety was in the forefront of Earnest's thoughts—he was worrying about Beau's wellbeing, and about mine as well. Of course, he was also concerned about Jessamine.

Royal was, as usual, feeling very smug and pigheaded. Crimson rage lanced through me so strongly that if I'd been closer to him, I might have ripped both his arms off before I'd thought twice.

Eleanor was worried about all of us, too. She very much so thought of herself as the 'big sister' of the family—though she was younger than many of us in the traditional way, she'd been changed when she was twenty years old. She had a good year or two on even Jessamine, so she'd taken the title without much fanfare. As usual, she was being her protective, typical self. She wracked her mind for some sort of joke she could crack to ease the tension, but even Eleanor could see no humor in the recent wave of occurrences.

Jessamine sensed my approach before any of the others—apparently the rage exuding from me was rather potent. She timed her twist just right. The moment Eleanor turned halfway to register my approach, sufficiently distracted, Jessamine broke her hold.

They were all gathered together on the riverbank, and Jessamine vaulted herself over the stream and into the forest beyond.

"Jessamine!" Earnest called after her. Before her name had entirely exited his mouth, I had streamed past the small grouping of my family members, and launched myself over the river as well. "Edythe!" he added.

Though Jessamine had gotten a head start, she was not fast enough to outrun me. When she realized this, she turned, holding her hands up in surrender.

 _I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!_ she thought, but I didn't pause to listen to her empty apologies. I ran full-force into her, knocking her clean off her feet. We tumbled together into the forest floor bracken.

"How _could_ you?" I shrieked, pushing her shoulders into the dirt with as much force as my anger allowed. They burrowed into the caked forest floor. "You could have killed him! Do you realize that? Do you _realize_ how close you came to ending his life tonight?!"

"I know, I know!" she cried back, unwilling to fight. Though I knew she was more than capable of standing her own against me, she lay motionless beneath me. "I can't tell you how sorry I am, Edythe! I'm _sorry_!"

"That doesn't matter!" I shouted at her, "None of it matters now!"

"I _tried_!" she pleaded, "I tried to resist! Truly, I did!"

"That's not _good enough_!" I screamed, my tone taking on that hot, metal edge it did when I was angry enough.

The rest of our family was catching up to us now.

"Edythe!" Earnest yelled, alarm saturating his tone when he saw us tangled in the soil. "Don't hurt her!"

A fraction of a second later, I felt El's arms wrap around my waist and pull me off Jess, who stayed on the ground for a moment longer. I kicked harshly against my taller, stronger sister.

"Let me _go_!" I snarled at her.

"Not until you calm down."

"Calm down?" I replied, the words escaping with a hint of hysterical, disbelieving laughter. "How the _hell_ am I supposed to calm down right now? Were you even _there_ , El? Did you see what nearly happened back there?"

"Edythe," Earnest said now, stepping in front of us, taking my shoulders. "I'm so sorry." The overwhelming compassion in his eyes abruptly sent the deeply ingrained fury fleeing. In its place, every other feeling that had been hiding underneath the anger surfaced—the shame, the horror, the angst, the disgust, the despair.

As he pulled me from Eleanor's arms to his chest, the reality crashed over me like a tidal wave, drowning me in its ceaseless black waves.

Horrible, dry sobs wracked my ribcage as I buried my face in my father's shoulder. "It's not fair," I wailed into his shirt, "It's just not fair!"

"I know it's not," he murmured soothingly as he stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry."

My family was very quiet as the universe collapsed around me.

.

"Can I walk you home?" Earnest murmured when I finally got ahold of myself.

I stared for a long moment at my brother and sister's backs. Jess and Archie sat together on the riverbank, Archie's arm around her shoulders. They didn't speak, as usual—communicating platitudes and encouragements in their silent, almost telepathic way.

I decided, then and there, that I had to take action. It didn't matter how long I'd tried to find another way around it—I was, and always would be, a threat to Beau's very existence. It exceeded the greatest of selfish exploit to continue to involve him in this dark world. There was nothing but horror and pain and fear for him, here. And though I'd made these realizations a long time ago, I'd done a thorough job of ignoring and avoiding them up until now.

But I could avoid it no longer. No matter how hard I tried, I could not keep Beau safe from myself. The Spring before, I'd been terrified to leave his side—thinking some sort of catastrophic disaster would ensue if I was not there to safeguard him… But a long, uneventful summer had passed—where not an iota of danger had touched his life, all except for the daily presence of my own menace.

I'd spent far too much time in a fantasy dreamland I'd constructed for myself—a dreamland where Beau, a human—and I, a monster, could be together, somehow. But my life was nothing more than a Grimm fairytale. At first glance, it seemed that I would achieve everything I'd ever dreamed of—but the reality was that I would have no happy ending. I could see that now. And I could accept it.

Because tonight's occurrences had been the wake-up call of all, hellish wake-up calls.

I could not continue on with this disastrous charade any longer—I had fooled myself for long enough. I would not be willing to put Beau in the path of even more peril, so I could wait for another needless sign.

It would be awful. It would be beyond pain and agony—but someway, somehow, I would have to make him safe again.

I could see now that I'd been fighting fate for too long. I could see now it was a foolish, catastrophic game I'd been playing. It was time for me to wave my white flag, and to concede defeat.

"Edythe?" Earnest's hand was on my elbow, and I blinked, torn from my thoughts. I gazed up into his clear and concerned topaz eyes for a long moment. I saw the question there, the burning intensity of his worry and trepidation.

 _Is she okay?_ he wondered.

"I'm ready," I told him now, turning away from the river to follow my father back to the house.

We strode along, side by side, in silence. Earnest wavered back and forth between voicing his concerns, and allowing them to swirl, unanswered in his mind. I did not pay his anxious thoughts much attention—I was too focused on the insurmountable task laid out before me now.

I paused at the edge of the lawn as my attention returned to the injured boy in the house ahead. Automatically, Earnest hung back with me. He sensed my distress, and noted that I wasn't breathing. It wasn't a conscious action I'd taken.

"I can go on ahead and clean up, if you feel…"

Beau's familiar scent swirled in Carine's mind, but she was finished with the suturing now. The bite of antiseptic was harsh enough to cloy the scent marginally, and I felt firmly back in control.

"No," I said to Earnest now, "I should…" But even as I said the words, I wasn't sure if I would have the composure needed to mop the blood from the floor. Though quickly drying, the scent of his spilled blood would still burn my throat, would still trigger that age-old instinct inside of me…

"Edythe." Earnest squeezed my hand. "Let me do this for you. You've been strong enough for one night."

I wanted to walk after him, to insist that cleaning up the mess was no issue for me, that Beau was my responsibility, but I could not make myself move from the spot where my feet were planted as Earnest headed on across the lawn.

I stared at the mirror the back windows made and focused on what Beau and Carine were saying.

I was surprised to overhear the turn their conversation had taken. I never would have expected something like religion to come up in conversation between my mother and boyfriend.

"Edythe agrees with me up to a point…" Carine was saying, "She believes in God, and heaven and hell. But she doesn't believe there is any kind of afterlife for our kind. You see—she thinks we've lost our souls," she added in a quieter, more solemn voice. _I don't know how to convince her otherwise,_ she thought sadly. _Lord knows how I've tried over these many years… I wish there was a way to make her see things the way I do; the hope I have for us, despite the depravity…_

"That's the problem, isn't it?" Beau said—his voice sounded strong and steady, totally calm. He really _was_ fine, I was surprised to discover. "That's been the problem all along—that's why she won't change me."

Carine did not feel herself at liberty to discuss the obstacles between the forever she still saw for me and Beau. As the days had gone on, she'd only grown more and more sure of the future she thought we'd have. Her imaginings constantly shifted between one or the other—but the basic theme was always the same.

More than a couple of times, I'd seen the picture in Carine's mind: Beau and I, standing together under a canopy of baby's breath and freesia. Beau wore a classic black tuxedo; I wore Carine's wedding dress, a wreath of flowers perched in my loosely curled hair… The only changing factor in the two opposing images was the color of Beau's eyes. In the first, he gazed down at me in adoration, the depths of his bright blue eyes wide and very, very deep. In the second, we were similar in both pallor and eye color. In the second image, his eyes would shimmer with the same conviction, love and adoration, only limpid honey gold instead of brilliant blue…

She brought to recall the images now, knowing the strength of the wall between us—but the images were skewed. She did not know how tonight would change our future. She did not know how I would react. She hoped I would not come to the conclusions she suspected I would. Very, very briefly, the invented images flickered in her mind's eye: A dark, winding road, my hands gripped tight around the steering wheel, eyes blazing with agonized heartbreak… A brief glimmer of Beau in shadow, face tormented…

I shook her contemplations off and reoriented myself on Earnest's mind. He was focused on his cleaning duties, meticulously filling the mop bucket with equal amounts of bleach and water.

Again, Carine's voice broke through my mind. I could not keep her out. This time, it was her physical speech that I heard: "I looked at Edythe. Sick as she was, she was still so beautiful… There was something pure and good about her face. The kind of face I would have wanted my own daughter to have…" She was picturing it in her mind now, the way I appeared, pale and fragile, on my deathbed. She remembered the maternal love she'd felt for me almost immediately, when she'd begun her attempts to nurse me back to health.

I moved across the lawn now, toward the house, drawn by her motherly tenderness and firm faith and confidence in me.

"… For so long, I'd suffered in my loneliness, struggled with the isolation and the indecision. After all those years of conscious thought and contemplation, this time, I simply acted simply on feeling. It was my choice, you see, that night—whether I stood back and allowed simple human death to take her, or if I saved her… Ultimately, you know what I decided, and I've never regretted it. I'll never regret having saved Edythe." Unaware that I'd stepped into the house, she regarded Beau's soft countenance. _Especially not now. Not now that she's found you._ She sighed, anxiety returning to her thoughts.

I waited in the shadows, breathing shallowly through my teeth. The sharp sting of the bleach did practically nothing to mask the sweet aroma of Beau's blood. I focused on the acute, physical agony, metaphorical fist tight around the hunting instinct for now, as I compared the current agony to the one I would soon face.

"I suppose I should take you home now," Carine said to him.

I stepped through the darkened dining room, into the archway of the kitchen. "I'll do that," I said after ensuring my mask was in place. A very long time ago, I'd played the part of an actor—in fact, I'd been acting and pretending for much of my immortal life. It should be an easy role to assume now, if any word of the impending conversation were a lie.

"Don't worry about it," Beau said now. I was glad to see the color had returned to his face. His arm was taped up securely, and the flames in my throat rose higher when I encountered his hidden, fresh wound. At least the flow of blood had stopped, so the temptation wasn't _as_ strong—but still, that it was any temptation at all was danger enough. "Carine can drive me."

"I'm fine," I insisted, berating myself for the distress in his eyes, and the concern in his voice. I must do a better job of hiding my own suffering, for his sake. I paused, taking into account his blood-soaked and icing-smeared t-shirt.

His eyes followed my gaze. "Oh—uh, I guess I'll need to change… Don't wanna give Charlie a heart attack or something."

"I'll have Archie get you something," I offered, and pivoted on my heel to exit the kitchen. I strode back through the dining room and through the main room, past Earnest who was just finishing up. When I stepped out onto the porch, I could already hear Archie's approaching mind.

 _Caught that. I'm on my way._

He confirmed that the simple t-shirt exchange would not alert Charlie to anything suspicious, but again, his future visions where Beau and I were concerned, were fuzzy and dim. When he came into view, zipping across the yard to stand at the bottom of the steps, his brow was furrowed.

"What is going on in that angsty mind of yours?" he questioned disapprovingly as he glared up at me. "Whatever it is, it's screwing up your future, and his—you should know that."

The indistinctiveness was enough to prove that I was as weak and undisciplined as I'd already suspected. I had decided as far enough that I would leave him—it was the only way to keep Beau safe—but Archie's visions continued to swirl and swim with some aura of stability. Which meant I hadn't progressed far enough in the decision-making process to really _change_ anything, per se.

Archie came up the porch steps then, and stopped right in front of me. "Whatever you're thinking, don't do it," he murmured, and I could see that familiar air of trepidation in his eyes again. "I know you—you make stupid choices when stupid things happen, you take the blame for everything, and everyone _else's_ faults, when it was no one's fault at all. I can see what you're trying to do—and I'm begging you, Edythe. Don't do it… It'll destroy you both."

I physically flinched at the disastrous images in Archie's mind—Beau, curled up on his side atop his unmade bed, eyes glassy and vacant, face gaunt, purple shadows under dull, lifeless eyes… My own face, hidden somewhere in shadow, agony so acute in my eyes, I could only assume I was being tortured, whether that was physically or emotionally, I didn't know—but I had an idea.

I could hear them gather in the front room now, and I focused on that instead of on the agony of the images in Archie's mind. It was foolish and cowardly—I _should_ be focusing on the future to come, because I had to carry it out. There was no other way, and nothing was going to be resolved by plain, moronic avoidance.

"Hey, Earnest," Beau was protesting, "Let me do that."

"No need," Earnest insisted, mopping up the last of the mess, "I've already finished. How's your arm?" he added, with a note of concern.

Through his eyes, I saw Beau glance down at his bandaged arm. "Arm's fine," he muttered, "My ego's a bit busted up." He laughed shortly, embarrassed for whatever reason, that much was clear. I didn't have the faintest idea why—none of this had been his fault. Archie was correct in that I tended to blame myself for much, but without compromise, this night _had_ been completely my fault—due to my weakness, and selfishness, and stupidity, and arrogance. I _would_ do what was right now, and reverse all the damage I'd inflicted.

Until now, Archie had kept his gaze level on my face. The tightness in his eyes told me he understood what I was thinking, but he didn't say anything. Without another word, he slipped past me and through the front door.

Half a moment later, I followed him through the door, but hung back, torn with indecision and fear.

"C'mon," Archie said to Beau, gesturing for him to follow up the stairs. He was headed toward his room, to find Beau a clean white shirt. "I'll get you something less horror-movie to wear."

When they were out of sight, my parents turned on me. Their thoughts were in sync, both anxious, both concerned, both apprehensive about what my reaction would be to all of this. They could see something wasn't quite right with me—they bore witness to the turmoil on my face and in my eyes.

"Edythe—are you alright?" Carine asked.

"No." I didn't look at them as I folded my arms around my torso, wishing this was merely a nightmare I could wake myself from. But it wasn't a bad dream—it was cold, harsh reality.

"This wasn't your fault, Edythe," Earnest said now, "It wasn't anybody's fault. Accidents happen—to blame yourself—"

"Just stop, Earnest," I interrupted him, whipping my eyes to his face. "There's nothing to be said. Nothing to make it go away. There are no words, to simple placations." Words, no, but actions—yes. I would take each measure necessary to indemnify nothing like this would _ever_ happen again.

I could see only one way to bring that assurance to fruition.

Together, my parents pieced the front room back together, while I stood in stoic silence.

By the time Archie and Beau reappeared, the room was in immaculate order.

I pulled the door open when Beau reached the bottom of the staircase, without a word. He started toward me without hesitation. If anything, he rushed. Was he finally, acceptably, horrified at the turn this evening had taken? Was he _finally_ reacting to my family's presence the way he should be? If he was, this conversation would play out much easier than I'd feared.

"Don't forget your stuff!" Archie protested, ducking down to pluck the two unopened gifts from where they'd fallen underneath the piano. I took them from him before Beau could attempt to juggle the pointy-edged gifts. "Thank me later." He winked, putting on a good show, but underneath his perfectly formed façade, the anxiety whirled in his mind. _If you get around to opening them…_ he tacked on.

Earnest and Carine told Beau goodnight. I could feel both my parents' and my brother's eyes on me as I ushered Beau toward the door, but I ignored their inquisitive unease.

It didn't matter what my family was thinking—the only thing that mattered now was conveying Beau safely home, and then leaving him there.

…

 **A/N:** So, as I was creating the playlist for this ff, I realized that it's actually quite difficult to find songs that talk about breakups from a selfless perspective. Try to do it now—to find a breakup song that talks about our own faults and misdemeanors, rather than what the other person did, or how they made us feel—and then come back to me with the results. 'Already Gone' (originally by Kelly Clarkson) but I like the Sleeping at Last version better, is the one I can think of, and have found.

Let me know what you thought of this one if you have time, as always!

See you next time! xo


	4. Decision

**A/N:** Hey, everyone! I've actually begun to get a little ahead with rough drafts, so that's good! *thumbs up* Here's a good ol' Thanksgiving gift for all my American friends! (Sorry, it's a bit of a downer xD)

…

"I'm sorry."

Of course these were the first words out of Beau's mouth when we reached the freeway. I didn't know why they took me by surprise—he said them so needlessly often… Regardless, the absurdity nearly blinded me as I barreled through the starless night, pushing Beau's truck to its limits. This time, he didn't say anything about it.

It was ludicrous to hear him apologize. Was he honestly trying to take responsibility for any part of the atrocity that had just occurred? There was no possible way he could put this on himself— _I_ was the one who'd dragged him to the party he'd never wanted to go to in the first place, _I_ was the one who had so little self-control I'd almost killed him… Again. _I_ was the one who had thrown him backwards into a table piled with glass, effectively opening up a vein in his arm, turning a mere paper cut into a practical medical emergency.

"Don't be stupid, Beau."

"If I'd been more careful…" he insisted.

His insistence brought the guilt and shame and self-castigation into sharp focus, and the words spewed from me without control. "More _careful_?" I couldn't help but sneer—because, truly, his mind was warped. "Tell me—what's the worst that could have happened in a normal situation, with your normal friends? So they couldn't find you a bandaid for your simplistic paper cut? Say you tripped and knocked a pile of glass plates over—with _out_ your girlfriend throwing you into them—and even then, what's the worst that could have happened? You'd get blood on the seats when they drove you to the hospital? McKayla Newton could have help your hand while the doctor stitched you up—and _she_ wouldn't be fighting the urge you kill you the entire time—!"

"Um—how did McKayla end up in this conversation?"

"McKayla ended up in this conversation because McKayla would be inarguably, exceedingly healthier for you to be with," I snapped.

It was quiet for a long moment, as I stared fiercely out the windshield. The wipers swished back and forth, the only sound in the truck aside from Beau's steady breathing and heartbeat.

I listened with acute attention to both of these things, with more consideration than usual. If it was the last time I would be hearing them, I wanted to commit the sounds to memory with perfect clarity…

Finally, Beau muttered, "If I wanted to be at McKayla's house, I would have gone to McKayla's house. But I went to _yours_ , because I chose to be with _you_. Not McKayla."

A possibly fatal error on his part.

I didn't speak for the remainder of the drive—instead, I focused on locking down my own emotions and responses, preparing myself for the goodbye that would have to ensue.

When I pulled the truck up in front of his house, however, I could say nothing. The words froze in my throat— _I have to leave, Beau… Goodbye, Beau… I'll always love you, Beau…_

"Will you stay tonight?" he asked, very quietly in the heavy silence. His softly spoken request eradicated what fortitude I thought I'd possessed.

 _No, I won't stay_ , I tried to say. Instead, my heart and selfish nature betrayed me. "I should go home." And never come back. And leave him to his happy, normal life. It was the right thing to do, and by all means, I should have done it, but I could not bring myself to say the words.

"Y'know, it _is_ my birthday…"

I knew, in that moment, that my plan was dashed. I had lost the very shaky argument with myself, and I knew that tonight's goodbye was a lost cause. It was clear I couldn't leave him, not tonight. The small note of joy was quickly dashed by the shame. I _would_ make him safe again—I promised myself that this would be the last night we spent together.

I appraised my love's face. "Do you want people to ignore your birthday, or don't you?"

"Don't," he replied immediately, decisive. And then his perfect, full lips pulled into a small smile, and my heart ached.

I reached forward to touch the corner of his smiling mouth, feeling my brows knit together. I memorized this, too—his smile. Then I sighed.

"I'll see you upstairs then."

He hopped out of the truck, and then reached back for the small gathering of gifts on the seat.

"You don't have to take those." I wondered if he'd want any reminders of me, when the time came… And guessed that he wouldn't. Somehow, the thought stabbed me, though it was entirely reasonable that he would forget me in time, and go on with living.

"I want them," he insisted, however.

"No, you don't. Carine and Earnest spent money on you." I used this small weapon in my arsenal, knowing how he hated people spending money on him. The other gift was from me—this was the gift I knew he'd resent when I finally garnered the strength to leave him…

"That's okay," he said, and pulled the packages into his good arm. He shouldered the truck door shut behind him. Before it had fully swung shut, I was out the driver's door, and by his side.

"Let me carry them, at least," I insisted, conceding defeat. I pulled the burden from his arm. "I'll be waiting."

He bestowed another beautiful smile on me. "Thanks."

"Happy birthday," I relented quietly, and as much as I tried, I could not resist the pull of his gravity. I leaned up on my toes to very carefully brush my lips against his. I felt his good hand come up alongside my waist as I began to pull away, but stepped back, easily breaking his hold.

For a moment, a genuine smile filled my face—some things never changed—but then I fled, realizing that they would have to, now.

I scaled the side of the house and was through his window before he'd opened the front door.

As Charlie greeted him, I stood in the middle of the room and considered my options. If I could not bring myself to say goodbye to his face, would it be easier just to disappear into the night—to save us both the regretful farewell? What would he do, if I simply didn't show up for school tomorrow?

I drifted to his desk, fingering the books piled neatly there, lifting the sweatshirt that hung over the computer chair to my nose for a moment, breathing in his fragrance…

No, I couldn't do that to Beau. It was the coward's way out, and he deserved a goodbye, an explanation. He deserved peace and closure, and I had to be the one to give it to him. I had to do the impossible—to make him understand that this goodbye would be permanent, that there would be no turning back…

But as I drew these conclusions, his voice wafted through the floorboards, calling to a place deep inside me. His scent clung to every fiber of the room around me, and I inhaled deeply, ignoring the fire in my throat, committing the notes of his aroma to memory.

I moved to the rocking chair, touching the back support for just a moment, recalling the many nights I'd spent curled in this very seat… Where I had discovered that I'd been in love with him, and that he had feelings for me.

I scanned the books on his shelf, and his selection of music, memorizing every title.

I opened his closet, and leafed through the clothes hanging there, stirring up his scent once more.

Finally, I drifted to the bed, situated myself in the middle of it and curled my knees to my chest.

For just a moment, I indulged myself—bringing to mind the feel of his lips on mine, the softness of his hair in between my fingers, the forgiving warmth of his chest and hands, the many expressions on his face, the brilliant blue of his eyes…

"What happened to your arm?" Charlie's words broke me from my reverie, and I opened my eyes, waiting with slight trepidation for Beau's answer.

"Oh, uh," Beau said now, as if he'd completely forgotten about the injury, "I tripped." His ability to lie had not improved, I noted, but Charlie was distracted by the TV, anyhow.

"Beau," he said with a disapproving sigh.

"I'm completely fine. Night, Dad."

He hurried up the stairs—I listened intently to the rhythm of his feet on the floorboards—and then the bathroom door slammed shut behind him. I heard running water, and I picked up the top package from the pile, turning it over idly in my hands. A few minutes later, he appeared in the doorway.

"Hi." I could hear the gloom in my voice.

Beau shut the door and came to sit by me. "Hey. Can I open my presents now?"

I half-shrugged without looking up. He pulled the gift I was toying with out of my hands—Carine and Earnest's—with uncharacteristic eagerness. Despite my efforts, amusement rose inside of me. If he could still, somehow, find joy tonight, despite everything that had occurred, I would not be the one to steal it from him.

"Where did the enthusiasm come from?" I teased, feeling the last vestiges of the fight leave me.

Beau shrugged. "I got curious."

He tore the paper and then pried the lid off. He squinted as he focused on the fine print of the thick sheaf of paper nestled inside.

"Hey—that's awesome!" he enthused, appearing genuinely pleased when he made the realization, "It's two plane vouchers to Jacksonville! Wow—my mom's gonna lose her mind. She asks about you all the time, bugs me about bringing you to visit almost every email and phone call…" Then he hesitated, just briefly. "You'll have to stay inside, though—with the sun and all."

His enthusiasm was wonderfully charming—albeit, unexpected. After all this time, I still couldn't predict his every reaction… "Such an appropriate reaction to a gift," I mused, "If I'd known you'd be this excited about it, I would have made you open it in front of Earnest and Carine."

"Well—I mean, they shouldn't have. But this is awesome. My mom'll be over the moon."

His exuberance was contagious, and I giggled softly. "I didn't realize you were so capable of acting reasonably. Maybe I _should_ have spent money on your present."

He set the tickets aside and reached for the remaining gift. He tore the paper off, and then turned the clear jewel case over in his hand, possibly searching for a track list. The silver CD inside was left unlabeled.

I was glad, now, that I hadn't gone ahead and paired the gift with any sort of letter or note—I knew the gift would be fanfare enough, he wouldn't want the extra details. But now I realized, it would have made the coming separation harder.

"What is it?" he asked now, perplexed. He turned the CD over again, and it glinted weakly in the dim light his lamp shed. As always, his confusion was adorable. I took a brief fraction of a second to memorize that, too. The pull of his brows, the shifting colors in his eyes, the slight frown on his lips, the very marginal tilt of his head.

In answer to his question, I reached for the disc and inserted it into the CD player on the table by his bed. I hit play, and then sat back, unable to resist nestling into his side. The music filtered through the low-quality speakers quietly—a poor recording of his lullaby.

I recalled his reaction from so long ago, sitting beside me on the bench at my piano as he'd heard this same composition for the first time. The same emotion had risen in his expression then as it did now—the soft tenderness, the brief sadness like sand through a sieve…

I remembered the contemplations I'd had then, so much the same now… How could our irrefutable end be avoided? I saw now that it could not be. A monster _was_ in love with an earthbound angel, and the ending was as obvious as it seemed… There would be no happy ending for me; I could only hope, in time, that Beau would have one for himself.

The only way such a thing would be achieved could only happen in my absence.

The song gradually drifted to its mournful end, and I was surprised to see that Beau's eyes were a little damp, his face flushed.

Immediately, I glanced at his injured arm, wrapped in its bandage, the yellow stain of antibiotic showing through. He must be in pain, I realized. The anesthetic ought to be wearing off by now.

"Is your arm hurting you?" I worried. I should have gotten something stronger from Carine before I'd driven him home… As always, he was in pain because of my mistakes…

"No." He shook his head. "It's fine… Edythe, thank you—for the music. It's…" He trailed off, concentrating on the next song.

I was struck again, by the unpredictable response.

"I didn't think you would allow me to purchase a piano so I could play for you here."

He laughed, and then winced, the fingers on his wounded arm twitching, just slightly.

"How's your arm?"

"Dandy."

I could see through his fibbing—his eyes burned with the intensity of the discomfort.

"I'll get you some Tylenol," I offered, and was up before he could begin to protest. As I slipped into the hall, I decided I'd get a prescription for something stronger from Carine in the morning.

I found the painkillers and a glass in the bathroom. I returned to his bedroom before his heart had beat twice, and handed him the pills. He swallowed them without argument, and I realized that he really must be in pain if he wasn't protesting…

The guilt lanced through me once more, feeling fresh and new in its strength.

This _had_ to be the last time I put him in danger. It _would_ be.

I would not leave tonight, but the decision had been made. Tomorrow, possibly, after I'd spoken to my family. They wouldn't be happy with my decision—Archie, least of all; I could accept that. But I would not allow them to sway me in my decision.

I realized, in this strange and convoluted turn the universe had taken, that very suddenly, Royal and I would be on the same side. For so long we'd been on opposing teams—but tonight, he would support my decision.

"It's late," I said now, noting the time on his bedside clock. I reached for his hands and pulled him to his feet, before reaching past him to pull down the coverlet. I gestured toward the turned down bed, and he sat stubbornly on the edge of the mattress.

"Beau…"

"Lay with me," he requested, reaching his arms out.

I could not resist him.

I went all-too-willingly into his arms and snuggled with him underneath the quilt, telling myself this would be the last time, the last night… I nestled myself into his chest, pressing my ear to the place over his heart, and listened to it thump.

It was quiet for a very long moment, as Beau listened to the music, and I tried to argue all the points my heart was making against me. It felt so wonderful, so comforting, so _right_ to lay with him here like this… But it _wasn't_ right. So much was clear—the fact could not be disputed.

It was the blackest sort of selfishness, the utmost of sin, to expose him to the blackness of this life, to put him in so much peril. To leave him was the right thing to do, though I knew it would cause him pain, heartbreak even… He loved me, I knew that much, as I loved him, with the entirety of my being… What was right in that? What was right in breaking the both of our hearts? His mental anguish would be pronounced—that much was certain. What was _right_ in that?

I had once told Beau, in a small high school cafeteria, that if hurting myself by leaving was the right thing to do, I would do it… Could I live up to those words now?

"What are you thinking about?" Beau's quiet whisper broke through my reverie, and he stroked my hair, braiding it through with his warmth and fragrance.

"I was thinking about right and wrong, actually," I admitted—and about how weak I was, in knowing the answer, knowing what was right, and being unable to carry out the task anyway.

I felt him stiffen under me, and then he sat up just slightly, lifting his head off the pillow and propping himself on his good elbow. In response, I leaned up so that I could look into his eyes. Our faces were just inches apart, and I felt each of his warm breaths wash over my cheeks.

"You know," he said, "I was thinking…"

"Hmm? About what?"

"Well… Since it _is_ still my birthday, technically…" His gaze flickered between my eyes and lips, and I felt his arm curl around my waist, his palm pressing into the flat of my back. His intentions were clear.

"You're really very greedy tonight," I mused, about the both of us, really. Myself, more so.

Beau shrugged. "I think I have a right. Birthday boy over here."

I couldn't help but laugh, and then I closed the small sliver of space between us, pressing my lips to his.

His mouth, as always, was warm and eager. His desire fanned my own, erupting into flames in my throat, chest and stomach. As the desire multiplied, so did my strength, and the fortitude I'd been fighting for burst into life. This _would_ be the last time I would kiss him, and with that realization, I lost tenuous ground.

With a passion that was more than passion, I pressed myself closer to him, my chest against his, one of my legs twining with both of his underneath the sheets.

I pressed myself to him, in an attempt to convey all the love and need and devotion I had for him through this simple embrace. Beau did not fight me as I leaned over him, my mouth crushing his. I was aware, dimly, that there were lines being crossed at present, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

This was the last time, and I wanted to make it count.

Finally, somehow, I managed to pull away, rolling onto my back beside him as he panted heavily, staring up at the ceiling.

"Sorry," I said, breathless myself, "That was out of line."

"Not even."

I sighed. "You'd better get some sleep, Beau."

He turned his head on the pillow to look at me. "Just one more?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, brushing my finger down the side of his jaw. "You're overestimating my self-control. You've pushed your luck enough for one night."

He grinned at me, relenting. "Fine."

He put his arm around me and tugged. Knowing what he wanted, I snuggled closer, into his front.

It didn't take long at all for his breathing to slow and even, washing in warm waves over the crown of my head. I pulled back so I could watch his face when I was sure he was asleep, tracing its countenance with my eyes, drinking in every detail.

His breaths inundated over my face and receded, again and again, encouraging the fire in my throat.

I reached up to rake my fingers very gently through his hair, stirring up his delicious fragrance—the smell of his blood, yes, but his shampoo as well—mint, pine, and redwood. I breathed it in greedily, as if prepared to dive underwater.

I ran my hand down over his jaw, his neck, across his firm, broad shoulder. He shivered slightly in response to my cool touch through the thin material of his sleeping shirt, and I retreated, embarrassed.

I tucked the quilt tighter around him, forming a barrier against the chill of my body, trying to convince myself of what my heart rebelled against.

 _If you truly love him, you'll save him by leaving him_ , my logical mind whispered.

 _No, you protected him tonight. He's safer with you here,_ my heart argued.

But how many times had my own nature been the cause of the perils he'd faced? How many birthday parties could have ended the way his had tonight? I didn't have to hypothesize; it was clear.

Unbidden, the image that had haunted me since the day of the car accident rose in my mind. Archie's vision that I'd rebelled against so strongly, but I couldn't deny that I had considered it more than once over the course of the summer. Beau, by my side, unaffected by the delicacy of human life, strong enough to protect himself, with his cold, fair skin, and bright red eyes…

 _You could be together forever…_ My heart tried to convince me. _He could protect himself…._

 _No._ I had been intent on keeping him pure, blameless and human—I would not, could not, resign him to an eternal night of darkness. For all of my selfishness—the way I insisted on staying at his side, the way I'd given him no choice but to choose me, as much as I'd pursued him, this would be the very worst of them all. He would suffer greatly in becoming a vampire.

He would never be able to see his family or friends again, he would have to sacrifice all the joys of being a human, his perfection most of all.

I exhaled softly as he burrowed deeper into the pillow, his arm going slack against my waist.

I realized that if I wanted to do this thoroughly, I would not only have to remove myself from his life, but all semblance of my existence ever would have to disappear too. I would have to do the unthinkable and ask my family to uproot their lives for my sake.

I knew, from past experience, that they would be willing to move on for me. I'd never asked much of my family, and had sacrificed much for them in the past. They would grant me this request.

Besides, it was nearly time to start over anyway. Carine was feigning an age almost a decade older than she really was, and she'd been preparing for the possibility of a move in the next couple of years anyway. In all her thoughts, however, Beau had been present. She had not expected our restart to carry out this way.

The only member of my family I could truly see an argument from would be Archie. He'd formed a close bond with Beau, had envisioned a future for the two of them, as family. Archie had never been very close to Royal, but he could see how easy it would be to accept Beau as a brother, and he'd been looking forward to that—as much as he'd tried to hide it from me.

Royal and Eleanor would accept my decision, and they would go along with my plan without much argument. Eleanor would be upset, but she would go where Royal went, and she had always trusted me.

Earnest would be upset. He would grieve the end of the relationship that had changed me so much, but he, too, would accept my wishes and do as I asked.

It took me several more hours to convince myself to leave. I laid in Beau's arms all night, whispering apologizes and declarations all through the midnight hours, hoping that, somehow, he would be able to hear me, to remember the words I said to him.

It was a physically painful act to extricate myself from his slumbering embrace, as if part of my heart had been torn from my chest.

Beau had been the one to bring my cold, dead heart back to life… It seemed only fitting that he should be the one to get to keep the majority it.

.

I caught my family's thoughts when I was still a short distance from the house. I paused amidst the trees bordering the property, and eavesdropped.

" _She'll be here any second,_ " Archie was saying, his tone sour.

" _I don't know, Arch,_ " Eleanor was responding, " _That seems sorta drastic… She really wants to breakup with him?_ "

" _Ask her yourself._ " _I know you're out there, little coward. Get in here._

I sighed and darted across the lawn and up the porch steps. Archie pulled the front door open before I was across the veranda, his eyes narrowed and lips turned down.

"Hello, Archie," I greeted him.

"Edythe," he returned, his tone icy.

 _It's not going to work, you know. You're not strong enough to leave him._

"Watch me," I said calmly as I slipped past him into the house. I stalked into the dining room, where everyone else was already seated. The last time we'd done this had been the day Royal had wanted to do away with Beau's life, and the explosive argument between us that had erupted.

This time, everyone was gathered on one side of the table. It was not an argument in which sides would be taken. It was a discussion wherein I would receive the utmost of support from my family—well, most of them.

I took a seat beside Carine. Archie stepped into the room a moment after me, and sat in the farthest seat from me, his furious eyes never leaving my face.

 _How could you do this?_ he was thinking. _This stupidity will destroy both of you._

"No—it'll _save_ him," I replied to him, "You need to accept what is, Archie, and realize that this is the right decision to make."

"Hold up—what is this _decision_ exactly? Just so we're all on the same page. I want to hear it from you, Edythe," Eleanor interjected.

"Oh, I'm sure Archie's already told you all about my plans," I spat, unwilling to tear my gaze from his. He was firm in his stubbornness, truly believing I would not succeed with my endeavor to separate myself from Beau—however, beneath the bullheaded frustration and disbelief, was his own grief and unhappiness. He already thought of Beau as a brother in so many ways, and losing him would be painful.

"Yes, Edythe," Carine said now, "But will you just confirm for us?"

Finally, I turned my gaze from Archie's face, and met each of my family members' eyes, my father and mother last.

"In order to keep Beau safe, I think it's time we leave."

A collective shock zapped through the minds of my family. Most of them had been under the impression that I would end the relationship, maybe leave myself. But most of them hadn't been expecting for the entirety of our family to relocate.

"I know how much I'm asking of all of you—"

" _I'm_ not leaving," Archie interrupted, but I continued as if I hadn't heard him.

"—and I know it's an incredible act of selflessness that I have no right to ask of any of you."

"Edythe, you've up and left for all of us more than once," Carine said softly, "Of course we'd do the same for you now—if that's what you really want… But are you _sure_?"

"No—she's not," Archie interjected once more.

" _Yes_ ," I snapped, glaring at him once more, "I'm sure. It's the right thing to do. I've put him in danger for much too long, and it's time to put things back as they were. The only way to fully allow him a chance to recover and move on is if we all leave."

Earnest sighed disappointedly. _But they make each other so happy… He's changed her in so many ways; he's brought her out of her shell, animated her once more… I had all but resigned myself to imagining anything like this ever happening for her…_

"Earnest?" I murmured, and he looked up at me. His eyes were wide and soft with concern and pain.

"I admire your courage and selflessness, Edythe. Truly I do. But I thought… You had a future together…" Very briefly, an image of us underneath a wedding arch, much the same way Carine had imagined it so many times, flickered in his mind. Maybe they'd discussed it… At any rate, witnessing the daydream pained me now. I flinched.

"I was wrong," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.

Earnest reached across the table to take my hand. "I will do what you ask of me. I will leave if it's what you want."

"We just want to ensure you're making these radical decisions for the right reasons," Carine added. "I know you, Edythe—I know you typically don't take drastic measures unless you've thought them through thoroughly. But I know how you've been fearing Beau coming to harm, how much you've been worrying about it happening…"

"I'm not overreacting," I assured her, leveling my gaze on hers. The suspicion had been there in her thoughts, though she hadn't been willing to state it aloud. Usually, I didn't answer peoples' thoughts over their spoken words, but I wanted to get to the point about this. It was not a whim based on simple overreaction. It was a well-thought out course of action that had needed to be taken for a long time.

"I, for one, think you're doing the right thing… Finally," Royal interposed. He was sitting in the chair next to Eleanor, arms folded across his broad chest, looking totally at ease. His thoughts were content and satisfied. He'd been waiting for this inevitable day for a long while, and though he would miss this place and its chance for normalcy, he was glad I was—in his words—finally seeing things for how they were, and taking appropriate action.

"We should have left a long time ago," I said in agreement to his thoughts, ashamed. "It wasn't right of me to drag this out for as long as I have."

"You're not dragging out anything!" Archie protested. "By leaving, you're putting to rest a wonderful future for the two of you!"

"A future you enviably would damn him to!" I snarled at him. "You don't have any memory of your human life, Archie. You have no idea what Beau would be giving up by becoming one of us—not only his friends, family, the ability to sleep, to dream; but every aspect of his humanity as well! I understand you would have a difficult time comprehending such a thing—but you have to see the sacrifice Beau would have to make… Besides, I could never make that choice for him, I would never do such a thing."

Archie shook his head, skeptical, but his eyes were downcast, his thoughts hesitant, second-guessing himself. "You'll come back," he finally argued, lifting his gaze to mine again. "You won't be able to stay away. It'll hurt too much."

A low, frustrated growl vibrated in my throat. "I will do what it takes to protect him. And right now, not only myself, but all of us, are the most dangerous thing to him. There is no other choice but to leave."

Until now, Jessamine had been silent. Her mind was still aflame with conflagration and torment. Now, she leaned forward in her seat and appraised me with serious eyes.

"I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you, Edythe—"

I lifted a hand to stop her flow of apologies. "I overreacted earlier, Jessamine, and I'm sorry for that. I put blame in the wrong hands. It's my fault this happened. It was wrong of me. Please don't feel you played any part in my decision making."

"I'm still sorry," she insisted. _I could have killed him… I came so close…_ Her mind lapsed back into the downward spiral of shame and guilt. I knew, in time, she would forgive herself. I could only hope I could do the same—but doubted it.

I turned back to Carine. "How long will it take to make arrangements at the hospital?"

"We'll leave today if we have to," she told me, "How long do _you_ need… To say goodbye?"

The word tore a brutal gash in what was left of my heart, and I swallowed hard. "A day? Maybe two?"

No member of my family spoke as they waited for me to reach my own conclusion.

It was more than agony, more than torture, to have this decision left up to me. To put a deadline on the time I had left with Beau. To know, with certainty, that these would be the last hours I spent with him.

"Do you see?" Archie said to me now, "Do you see how difficult it is to make a choice? That's why it's been so blurred—because you haven't been able to go through with it all. You can't—"

"Shut up, Archie!" I cried, "Just shut up!" I turned to Carine and said, "Give me two days."

Forty-eight hours. It was decided. It was all I had left.

"If you're—"

"I'm sure," I assured her, as well as Archie. "I would like the rest of you to leave as soon as possible. It won't do him or any of us good to remain here longer than needed."

"Hold up—" Archie was on his feet now, his eyes blazing. "You won't even let me say goodbye?" His tone was tight with indignation.

I turned calmly in my seat to look at him. "It'll be easier this way, Archie—for both you and him." He didn't understand that this was the better side of the deal. He didn't really _want_ to stay. He couldn't imagine the pain on Beau's face when I told him goodbye. He'd never be able to face him down and tell him the same thing.

Archie shook his head passionately. I read this thoughts and knew he could see the logic, the truth in my words—but he didn't want to accept it. Regardless, I knew that he would do what was asked of him.

"I'll never forgive you for this," he finally told me, "It'll annihilate you, you know that?" Again, he showed me the image of my torturous, agonized face, hidden somewhere in shadow. He shook his head again, and then turned, striding from the room. Jessamine quickly rose to follow him.

Eleanor and Royal were the next ones on their feet. As she passed me, on her way to the door, Eleanor squeezed my shoulder.

 _I'll do this for you, Edy,_ she thought, _I don't like it, but I know you're just trying to keep him safe._

I nodded. "Thank you," I whispered.

Finally, I was left alone in the room with Earnest and Carine. I could feel their eyes on my face, but I could only stare at the smooth, polished tabletop in front of me.

We sat in silence for a very long time as the sun rose behind the clouds. Beau would be waking soon, to get ready for school. Finally, I rose from my seat, and turned toward the doorway, preparing to get ready myself.

When I was halfway to the archway, Carine said my name, very softly.

I turned back to look at them, still holding hands, still gazing at me with the soft, concerned passion of loving, doting parents. "Yes?"

"We're so sorry it's come to this," Carine murmured.

I sighed, feeling my shoulders droop. "Me too, Carine," I murmured, "Me, too."

Then I turned toward the stairs, eager to see Beau's face again, eager to spend every moment I could with him, before the end was upon us.

…

 **A/N:** As always, I'd love to hear what you thought of this one! See you next time! :)


	5. The End

**A/N:** So sorry it took so long for me to get this one up, guys! This time of year is pretty busy, and also, it's rather difficult to write such a dark fic during this jolly season xD But alas, it's here, it's done, the hardest part is over, and we can move on to 'better' things. I'm straining toward their reunion, though… ;)

Enjoy this one, lovelies! See you at the end!

…

Beau was not yet awake when I arrived at his house.

I hadn't realized where I was going until I'd ended up here, amongst the trees, eyes fixed on the small square window on the west side of the house, bordered by fraying blue-and-white checked curtains.

I pulled up short, surprised at myself—even when I fled from him, I ran to him. How weak I was!

I had promised myself I would not enter the house again, however, and so I forced myself to stay where I was on the edge of the property, listening to him sleep.

He was restless, dreaming. The sheets rustled as he tossed and turned, his heart rate picking up, and then his breathing.

He mumbled something incoherent, and then, "Please…" A few more frantic respirations, and he added, "Edythe, please… Tell me!" His words were so imploring, so desperate, so frightened, it was like a stake to my heart.

I turned my back to the house, bowing my head and covering my face with my hands. I couldn't bear to hear anymore.

But Beau, oblivious to my heartbreak in his slumber, went on. "No!" he cried, "Don't. Just… Just tell me…" A long pause. " _Edythe_!"

And then he gasped, the sheets rustling again, and he panted, his heart pounding. He was very still and silent, but I could tell that the dream had woken him. A moment later, his bedside lamp snapped on, and I turned to gaze up at the beacon of light exuding from his window… The only requiem to the eternal night I'd always known… My only chance at retribution and peace…

How would I find peace without him? When the deed was done, when Victor was dead… Would I return to my family? Would doing away with the savage nomad be enough to remedy my feelings of lack of purpose and loss?

I didn't have an answer to that.

Beau began to move around inside the house. When I heard the shower turn on in the bathroom, I decided it was time for me to return to my own house, to change and take my final inventory of the place I doubted I'd ever return to.

I turned my back on the small, faded white dwelling and took off running once more.

.

By the time I pulled into Forks High School's parking lot two hours later, I had effectively shut down the majority of my emotions. I would not be able to endure this—the effective final day of my life—any other way. I had to move through it with as little feeling as possible.

Because to think of this as the Last Day with my full emotions intact would mean unendurable, agonizing pain—a pain that would shatter what remained of my heart, and possibly any remnant of fortitude that came along with it.

But when I burned, Beau was safe.

I forced myself to repeat this mantra throughout the day, as my throat burned blisteringly, sitting beside him in class, as I avoided his hand holding while we walked to lunch, and avoided his surreptitious, confused glances all through fifth and sixth period.

I knew the cogs in his brain were turning—the intensity in his eyes, which I saw when I could not resist looking, said as much. He was trying to read my mind as much as I'd always struggled to read his.

When seventh period came, I steeled myself against the two tasks that remained. I escorted Beau to the door of his final class—the one class we did not share. He turned on me at the door, his eyes full of caution and wariness. His expression pained me. I did not want him to be fearful or confused or worried. But he ought to be. Because the end was coming.

I forced myself to recall my mantra: _When I burn, Beau lives. When I burn, Beau lives._

But he would burn, too. This fact was unavoidable. And if not forever, at least for a little while. It was ludicrous to think that I could leave without breaking his heart. I could only hope he would find the will to heal himself, and to carry on with his normal human life.

"See you later?" he murmured with only an ounce of hope. I knew he suspected something was wrong, and it stabbed me through with guilt and heartbreak.

I could only nod, unable to speak around the lump in my throat. He hesitated for a moment, his hand coming up, and I froze, feeling my muscles lock down with stress. His warm, soft hand lingered on the shape of my face for just a moment, and I stared up into his eyes, slightly narrowed in concentration, glinting with wariness and intuition…

Where before his touch had been a warm reprieve, a soothing balm to the aching torment of my long-stony soul—now it felt like a physical burn, a lashing through my insides, and I nearly buckled underneath the weight of it.

I stepped back, unable to endure the conflicting feelings any longer, and his hand fell away. I turned my back before the offense could fully surface in his eyes, and strode purposefully and quickly away.

Around me, various classes were beginning, teachers calling their students to attention, but I did not head for building eight for my final class of the day. Instead, I crossed the small expanse of lawn and ducked into the trees.

Only two tasks remained now: to destroy any evidence of myself that remained in Beau's life, and to say goodbye.

The former of the two was, by far, the easiest of the tasks, and I set off running for Beau's house to attend to it.

Upon arrival, I used the key hidden under the eave of the house, unable to face the small pane of glass on the west-side wall. It brought on too many memories.

I hurried up the stairs and entered Beau's room for what would be the final time. It had been days since I'd stepped foot in his bedroom, and my throat burst into flames in response to his scent, which saturated every cell of the surrounding atmosphere. As always, his bed was made, his books stacked neatly on the edge of his desk.

On top of the books were the airline vouchers from Earnest and Carine. I plucked those up first, and then went over to the CD player by his bed. I tried very hard not to think, not to feel, as I pulled the disc from the cartridge and slid it back into its jewel case.

The gifts gathered in my hands, I hesitated for a moment—contemplating the idea of removing the stereo from his truck. Quickly, I discounted the idea—that gift hadn't been from me, after all, and leaving a gaping hole in his truck's dashboard would cause more trouble than was warranted. Besides, his truck was in the school parking lot. I would not be able to accomplish such a task without drawing notoriety.

My knees were growing weak, and I sunk down onto the edge of the mattress, afraid I would collapse beneath the memories that had begun to crowd my mind. The many nights spent here, in his arms, snuggled close to his warmth and vitality, the steady thumping of his heart a lullaby all its own for me…

 _Stop_ , I ordered myself. I could not allow myself to go there—to think of the things that would undoubtedly make me stay…

I glanced around the room once more, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. On the end of the bookshelf was the photo album Charlie and Renee had united together to purchase their son. The camera they'd also given him sat atop it, and I picked both up.

Opening the front cover revealed no disturbance. Beau hadn't gotten around to developing any photos yet, and there was no stain of my passage through his life on these pages. I set the scrapbook aside and picked up the small silver camera.

The first face that greeted my vision in the cache of photos disturbed me, for it was so unfamiliar it jarred me. It was me, tucked beneath Beau's arm, in his small kitchen. It had been the night of the ill-fated party. Charlie and Beau had just eaten pizza, and all of us had been good-natured, me most of all. The face smiling up at me was happy and carefree, innocent and unassuming of the perils that were to come.

There had been light in my eyes, warmth in my touch, hope in my expression…

I nearly choked on the emotion this elicited, and quickly pressed the 'Delete' button.

As I flipped through the ensuing photos Beau had his friends take the day prior at lunchtime, I found myself lingering in the background of most, and so decided to do away with those as well. There would be ample opportunity for him to replace those memories; there would be plenty an occasion to include him self in those candid shots now, without my presence weighing him down…

I flipped through the remaining photos, leaving these ones be, as they contained no aura of myself in them—various shots of Beau's bedroom, his truck, the shot of him and Charlie by the couch…

I lingered on the last photo—such a stark contrast against the first one I'd discovered: Beau and I, side by side. I barely touched him, but his hand was white with the ferocity in which he held me to his side. Both of our expressions were so different, darkened by the course of unavoidable danger and misfortune.

I deleted that one, too, and then lifted my head. I exhaled, long and slow, and gave the room one last glance. I set the photo book and camera back where I'd found them, and stood, the other gifts still in hand.

What would I do with them? I couldn't take them with me—and of course I couldn't leave them here…

As I shifted my weight, a floorboard creaked underfoot, and I contemplated for barely a fraction of a second before making my decision.

It was selfish of me to leave the memories of myself behind when it would be nothing but understandable for Beau to want to move on with his life once I was gone… But I could not resist this last act of selfishness… It would comfort me to know these things remained close to him, though he would never know.

The floorboard came up easily, and I buried the gifts—along with the final vestiges of my heart—inside the space between the joists.

By the time I headed back toward the school, I was utterly and completely empty.

.

Beau agreed immediately to my request to join him at his house after school. It pained me to know he had little idea of what was coming—though I could see the resolve in his face. Beau was no fool, and it was clear he'd been preparing, unbeknownst to me, to fight. I had to put a stop to that.

He'd been preparing to send an envelope stuffed full of double prints to his mother, and even delayed by discarding it—which made me feel horrendous—I beat him home. I parked in the driveway, instigating a clear signal that I would not be staying long, and flitted up to his room to hide the barely-sealed envelope beneath the floorboards with the other possessions.

Then I headed back down to my car to wait upon his advent, steeling myself against what was to come as I lingered.

It was obvious Beau suspected something was terribly wrong—regardless, he couldn't have suspected something like _this_ was coming, but he knew something was severely off with me. I knew that he would try every argument to prevent me from leaving, and I ran through every theorized protest now, so that I would be able to have a clear answer for each when the time came.

But _where_ …? I suddenly wondered. I had thought through all the words, ran through the entire conversation, like a script, hundreds of times through my head, but I had never pictured the scene of the actual farewell.

I considered each option—on the porch, in the kitchen, on the sidewalk by his truck—but none of them seemed appropriate. I could not taint this place with the darkness of heartbreak. I would not.

My eyes swept up, across the lawn, just as I heard his truck rumble around the corner. There, in the forest, a place he hardly ever went, seemed suitable enough. Maybe, even, the dark memories that would undoubtedly ensue on that trailhead, would deter him from heading into that dark place again—putting him just a tad closer to the safety this town would undoubtedly offer once I was gone.

Beau pulled up to the curb, his face uneasy. I reached forward to turn off the music, and turned my eyes to him. The swimming emotion in his eyes, his perfect countenance, the sturdy, soft shape of his shoulders as he turned toward me as I approached, the smooth, perfect bow of the lips I would never kiss again, the long, sinewy pale shape of the perfect hands that would never hold me again… The smooth curve of his cheekbones, his fair complexion, the dimple in his chin, the eyes I had always, _always_ adored… I stared at those the longest, drinking them in, knowing that from here on out, my days would never be the same again. Not without the perfect, viridian sky in his eyes. The real thing would pale in comparison.

The driver's side door opened, stirring up his scent in the air around me. It blistered in my throat, and for once, I did not try to suppress the monster inside of me. Instead, I embraced it—knowing _this_ was the reason I was leaving. No matter how much I loved him, no matter how hard I tried, I would never be anything _but_ the monster—and Beau deserved much, much more than that.

"Let's go for a walk." I offered him my hand, palm up, and waited for him to take it.

Beau hesitated, his eyes swimming with indecision and a deeper intuition—an intuition he had always possessed, an intuition I had admired. But not now.

A lump the size of a brick rose in the back of my throat, and my eyes burned with tears that would never come. For once, I was glad for my nature. The damp show of human emotions would not betray me today.

In a hurry to get it over with now, I shut my responses down, forcing the emotion back. _This_ was more important than the heartbreak. I had promised myself long ago that if I had to destroy myself to keep him safe, I would gladly do it. Today, it had come to that.

I took his motionless hand and tugged him across the lawn. He didn't say a word as we headed east toward the closely-packed woods. I stopped when we were only a few feet down the trail. I didn't want to take him too deep, and I took care to ensure that he would be able to see the house through the thin foliage.

I dropped his hand, hating to do it. Belatedly, I realized this was the last point of contact we would have. My palm burned with his absence, and I pushed it into my coat pocket so I wouldn't be tempted to reach out to him again.

I braced myself with a deep breath, and then I spoke: "Beau, we're leaving." His name exited my mouth soundlessly. The pain speaking it would inflict was too much.

I forced myself to stare into his eyes as the truth hit him. "Why now?" he was immediately protesting, "Another year wouldn't—"

I didn't let him get too far into the inevitable argument, not really even hearing the words. "It's time," I said, my voice too hard, but that was good. I _wanted_ to come off as cruel and degrading. That was all I'd brought into his life anyway—cruelness and evil. Debauchery and slander. "How much longer could we stay in Forks, after all? Carine is claiming thirty-three now, and she can hardly pass for twenty-eight. Our leaving is inevitable, regardless."

He stared back at me, silent. He was confused—his eyes swam with the emotion—but I could see nothing else in his expression. And then I watched the puzzle piece together for him. I had known it would hurt—but I was still taken aback by the knife-wound his pain stabbed in my side. I would have doubled over at the agony if I had been mortal, I was sure.

When Beau's face paled, my ice heart twisted and shredded.

"Okay," he murmured, eyes focused on the ground, and then he lifted his eyes to mine. There was determination there now. "Okay," he repeated. "I'll come with you. I'm ready."

How I wished I could take him with me, how I longed to stay with him—but it wasn't possible. It had been _my_ proximity that had put him in danger, after all. Wherever Beau was, _I_ could not be.

"You can't, Beau. Where we're going is not the right place for you." His place was _here_. How many times had I come to that conclusion? He was _safe_ here—all supernatural objects removed. He had his father, and his friends, and time would heal his wounds. He would recover; he would recuperate and move on with his life.

Beau shook his head spastically. "No," he argued, "I want to be where _you_ are!"

The anguish was choking me, a black strangle-hold around my throat. I forced myself to speak through the smothering pain. "I'm not good for you, Beau." I was abruptly overwhelmed by the truth of my own words. No words had ever been truer. Hadn't I been battling this obstinate fact for too long—the whole time, in fact? He deserved so much better… I had been selfish for far too long. It was time for me to give him his life back.

He was shaking his head again. "You _are_ right for me," he insisted, "Before you, before us, my life was… It was nothing, Edythe… I'm—"

"My world is not for you."

"I'm _nothing_ without you!" he blurted.

 _Oh, no, Beau. You are_ everything _without me._ He didn't realize how much he'd been missing out on—how much life there was for him to live, now that I would be out of his hair.

"Look," he nearly shouted, raking a distressed hand through his hair. "Look." His hands fell to his sides, and he was bouncing agitatedly, shaking his hands out. "What happened with Jess, Edythe? That was nothing. _Nothing_!"

I nodded. Finally, he was seeing things for how they were. "You're right. It was exactly what was to be expected." The repeating of the occurrences was inevitable. How much worse would it be, next time? How much closer to death would he come? And would it be my direct doing? I flinched, remembering the bloodlust, remembering feeling like all the control I'd learned had leeched out of me the moment his blood had been spilt…

"You _swore_ to me." His voice cracked. "When we were in Phoenix, you said—"

"I said that I would stay as long as it was best for you," I corrected him. And I was not the best for him anymore. I never had been, and it was painfully clear that I never would be.

"This is about my soul, isn't it?" he cried. I had never seen his eyes so full of fire before. "Carine told me what you think. She told me! It's _stupid_ , that's what it is. Of _course_ you have a soul. And even if you didn't—which you _do_ —I already made up my mind. _You,_ Edythe. I want you. I choose _you_!"

No. I could not acknowledge his choice, the way he wanted me. He didn't know what he was saying. He didn't know what he wanted. I didn't know how to make him see this by telling the truth. I would have to lie.

The decision staked me through with shame and guilt. I would have to tell him things that would cause him pain—I would have to hurt him if I wanted him to let me go.

"Beau, it's not about that." I ducked my head, fixing my eyes on the bracken of the forest floor, arranging my mask in place. "Beau, you must understand… This just can't work between us… You don't belong in our world, and I don't belong in yours." Only one of those phrases were true. I did not belong with him. "I'm so tired, Beau. I'm tired of pretending to be human when I'm not. Constantly tired, constantly fighting my instincts, constantly walking on eggshells." I shook my head indulgently. Only I would know I was shaking it in response to my spoken words. Lies. All of them were lies. I had never felt more free than the time I'd allowed myself to spend near Beau. I'd never felt more full of vitality, or more human. "How much longer can I keep up the charade, after all? The party was only proof of that—on behalf of myself, and the rest of my family."

He shook his head again, but this time it was slower, and some sort of comprehension passed through his eyes. "I'm sorry…" he said.

 _No._ I wanted to argue, _There is no reason for you to apologize. There is nothing whatsoever to be sorry for. Nothing! It is I who should be apologizing. Me!_

But instead, I stared deep into his wide, agonized eyes and said, "Thank you. Do you see now?"

His Adam's Apple bobbed as he gulped, hard. "Yeah…" he mumbled, "Yeah, I see… You…" His eyes dropped from mine, and the loss of access to his face was a physical strike. "You don't want me?"

 _Of course I want you. I'll_ always _want you. I will never stop wanting you, for the remainder of my heedless existence._

But I had to lie, I remembered. This would not work otherwise.

"No," I said, and I could not look at his face as I told him the lie.

He couldn't possibly believe any of this, could he? _Would_ he?

But then he spoke the confirming words: "Well… That, uh… That changes things, then."

A sob caught in my throat, but I swallowed it back, forcing the mask into place again. I could not crumble now. I could not back down from my stance. He _needed_ this, and though it would cause him pain, he would heal. He _would_. In time, he would find happiness again, and he would realize a joy far deeper than anything I ever could have given him. He'd have normalcy, he'd have human friends and his family and the real chance to go away to school and have children and get married and grow old with a nice, pretty blonde girl, who could actually age and mature with him.

Not me. I could not give that to him.

But I could not endure the torment in his voice. I could see that he believed the words I'd spoken—how could it be so _easy_ for him to think I believed any word of it? Abrupt fury flooded through me at the notion—that it would be this easy to leave him! Had I not shown the depth of my true feelings for him? Why was my faux-rejection so easily personified?

This was more painful than any of the other pains combined—that Beau would find it so easy to believe that I did not want him… It was absolute blasphemy.

The next words rose unbidden—I had to say them; I could not bear leaving him like this, without some kind of assurance.

"Of course, I'll always love you… in a way." In every way, down to the very core of my being, but I could not divulge this information. The plan would not come to fruition if I did. "I've led you along for much too long, and I'm sorry for that. So sorry." The final words escaped in a whisper, and I did not think he heard them—I did not think he processed the agony in my words.

I could not bear to look at his face. I stared into the trees without seeing them. It was like my world had been drained of all its color. Everything was monochromatic and shapeless. I would be nothing without Beau. But that was okay. Because, without me, he would be everything. Without me, he would get everything he'd ever deserved.

"Don't," he croaked now, and I heard his feet shift in the fallen leaves as he took a step toward me, hand lifting lightly from his side. "Don't do this."

 _I have to do this, Beau. I_ need _to._ You _need me to._

"It's done, Beau." I injected a cruel hardness into my voice and forced myself to meet his gaze now. He stared down at me, eyes wide and astonished and horror-filled. I hoped mine did not convey my true feelings, as well. I did not think they would. My façade was firmly in place. "However, I would like to ask one favor—if that's not too much."

Of course it was too much. I didn't deserve to ask anything of him, now.

"Sure," he breathed.

For a single moment, I let the mask fall—and I stared up into his lovely face, hoping my expression would convey the desperation of my next words.

"Don't do anything reckless or stupid. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I did not know what my future would hold now—I did not know where I would go, or what I would do. One thing I did know was that I could not bring myself to live with my family. I would go off on my own for awhile, I would hunt Victor down and kill him, and I did not know if I would ever come home. If the pain of our separation was as excruciating as it was now, I did not know how long I would be able to endure it. I knew the likelihood of my own outcomes—and I could only hope that Beau would not come to the same conclusions.

He nodded, his eyes very serious.

"I'm thinking of your parents, of course. Remember them. Remember how much they love you, and need you."

"Yeah…" he whispered, nodding numbly, "Don't worry about me."

This placated me. I knew he'd keep his promise. Beau was not one to break a vow.

"Good," I murmured, "And I'll make you a promise in return… This is the last time you'll ever see me." _No!_ Everything inside me screamed in protest against the promise I was making. Even now, with only a yard of distance between us, every fiber in my every cell reached for him, begged me to pull myself to him, to rescind every word, to make all of it untrue. But I could not do that.

 _While I burn, Beau lives,_ I argued.

"I won't come back," I continued, "I will never take advantage of you like this again. You'll be able to continue on with your life without any intrusion from me. Take advantage of that. Do everything you've always wanted to do… Act as if I never existed in the first place."

He didn't say anything to this—whether it was because he could not think of an argument, or if it was because he was simply grateful for my oath; was it possible he felt some sort of release in this moment? I hoped so.

But he looked so pale and so disoriented… For a moment, his eyes swam with a strange blankness—and I was worried he would collapse.

I offered him a soft, placating smile. "Don't worry," I attempted to sooth him, "You will heal very quickly. For humans, time heals all things."

"And you?"

And me… I would retain every intimate detail. I would remember every inch of his perfect visage—I would remember every note of his scent, every kiss, every touch, every embrace. I would remember every conversation between us, every night spent watching him sleep; time would not heal _my_ wounds. They would forever be branded in my heart and in my mind.

"I won't forget," I admitted, "But not to worry— _my_ kind is very easily distracted." I smiled softly, in an attempt to convince the both of us of my words.

My soliloquy had come to an end—there was nothing else to say, and the end had finally come. It loomed in front of me, a monstrous black hole. It was time for me to face it.

I took a small step back. "Well, that's everything, I suppose. As I said before, we will not bother you again."

Surprise flashed in his bottomless eyes, and it made me pause.

"Archie isn't coming back," he realized. His tone was flat, and just a breath, but I heard the words easily.

I shook my head measuredly. "No. They left days ago. I stayed behind to tell you goodbye. Archie wanted to stay, to say his own farewell, but I convinced him it would be better if he were to leave with everyone else—better for you. A clean break mends sooner, after all… Goodbye, Beau."

"Hold on," he croaked, taking one stumbling step toward me.

For a moment, my own arms reached out in response—just to hold him one last time, one more kiss, one more touch… But I would never be able to leave if I allowed myself that final gesture of affection.

I stepped back, out of his reach.

"Take care of yourself, Beau," I breathed.

Then I turned, and darted into the forest.

I ran blindly, without conscious thought, spurred by the agony. Instead of allowing the pain to carry me back the way I'd come, I pushed my legs harder, forcing myself away. And every inch of separation that grew between us was a blade in my side. I did not know how I would survive this—how it was even possible.

I hoped this sort of pain was something different for Beau, because I did not think—if I were human—that I would survive this. I hoped my crass goodbye had given him enough leverage, enough anger to motivate his own turn-away.

 _Don't do it!_ a voice inside me screeched, _Don't leave him! Stay! He loves you, he chose you, he_ wants _you!_

"He will live," I hissed in response to the eager thoughts, "He will _live_ if I leave. I'm saving him, I'm _saving_ him!"

I reached my car in seconds, and I hesitated at the driver's door, fingers on the handle. Across the lawn, I could hear the gentle rustle of forest bracken beneath Beau's feet as he moved further into the forest. Trying to follow me, I supposed.

For a moment, my legs pulled me forward, to go after him and guide him home. But with a strength that was not my own, I knew I could not go after him. All of the stamina I'd built, all of the fortitude—it had been just enough to get through my monologue and bring me here. If I went back, I knew I would not be able to garner the strength to leave again.

Instead, I lurched toward the house. I let myself in, found a scrap of paper by the phone on the kitchen counter, and scrawled a short note that would let Charlie know where his son had gone—imitating Beau's handwriting perfectly. He would be home in minutes; Beau could not go far in the interim.

With that done, I got behind the wheel of the Volvo.

Beau's scent lingered in the interior fabric of my car, drenching my surroundings. I clung to the notes of his fragrance, afraid to lose them. They swirled palpably in the air, taking the shape of a soft, broad-shouldered, blue-eyed-boy in my passenger seat. He did not say anything—he appraised me with his probing, viridian gaze as I punched the gas and sped out of town.

.

 **A/N:** *sob*

Guys, I'm so glad I already had half of this written… Where credit is due, I did hinge off some of the dialogue from the goodbye scene of Visser2315's 'New Moon Reimagined', but really did try to make it original and my own.

Let me know what you thought, guys! And where you suspect Edythe will go next! How will she start her journey? Where is Victor now? ;)

See ya next time! xoxo


	6. A Lead

**A/N:** So, I've already started writing rough drafts of Breaking Dawn… Eeh… Not such a good idea. I'm really looking forward to that one—I think because that's where the most will change, and I'll get the most leniency with plotline and such. So I'm looking forward to that.

A lovely reviewer mentioned that I seem to be forging ahead faster with this one, and I think it's warranted for the simple reason that we've been over foundation laying and such before, throughout the original series. We know what's coming, we know the story—we're just looking at it from a different perspective, so I don't feel it's necessary to include a bunch of unneeded, repetitive information. We just want to see what might have happened from Edythe's side.

Anyway! I'll see you all at the end!

(P.S. Super, super sorry for how long it took me to update this one! There was so much that I kept second-guessing myself over and changing… Meh. But it's here now!)

…

I barely made it to the southern limits of the town before the pain was too much.

It made me blind and deaf, and deprived me of all sensory input, and I swerved unseeingly onto the shoulder of the freeway, hunching over the steering wheel as the heartbreak overcame me.

The despair absorbed me, swallowing me in its entirety—an all-consuming black hole, inescapable and depriving me of any semblance of awareness whatsoever.

An indeterminable amount of time passed as I tried and failed to make sense of the agony that stunned me. It was like waves, not of water, but of tar, washing over my head, clotting in my lungs and throat, choking me, drowning me—and just when I thought I'd succumb to the mercies of death, the sensation receded for a fraction of a second, and it began all over again. Building to its peak, again and again, and again.

Inside my chest, the tiny part of my heart that remained detonated, shattered in millions of pieces, blowing through my insides and tearing a gash so deep and so brutal, I was certain that it would never heal.

I gasped for air through the excruciating sensation, eyes burning with tears that would never come, curling into myself over the steering wheel. Around the car, rain began to fall, pelting my car and windshield, providing the tears that would never come.

I felt utterly and entirely bereft. There was nothing now, _nothing_ , and I did not think I could explain the depth of that feeling—the terror, the desolation, the depression that came along with it. Not even the notion that Beau would be able to pursue a normal, human life for him now could comfort me, the way it had before. Without him, I was nothing. A shell, a ghost, a pale specter drifting through the world I never should have been in, the life I never should have gone on to have in the first place…

The horrible, horrible agony was interrupted by an incoming call on my cell phone. Nothing surprised vampires—or at least, nothing was supposed to—but the sudden buzzing of my phone startled me, and my head jerked up reflexively.

I tried to get ahold of myself as I reached for my cellphone and answered the call.

"Edythe? Are you there?" My mother's voice was soft and gentle on the other line. Suddenly, I regretted letting them leave earlier. There was nothing I desired more now, than to curl up between my parents and let them hold me—to do their best to comfort me—as my universe fell apart around me.

I inhaled two sharp breaths. "Yes," I managed to say, locking down my breathing in hopes it would bring composure—but it seemed to do the opposite. The torn, ragged wound inside my chest only seemed to grow, magnify in its arduous torture the longer I tried to ignore it.

"Oh, Edythe," Carine murmured, hearing the heartbreak in my voice, "You've left him?"

"Yes," I said again, but this time it was a sob.

"Where are you?"

"Just south of town," I whispered. My throat felt tight, constricted, like it was closing up.

"Stay there. We'll come to you."

I opened my mouth to protest, realizing they hadn't taken my request to depart seriously—but before I could speak, the line went dead.

I dropped my phone on the passenger seat beside me, and tried to get ahold of my emotions. It was difficult to wrangle them, but by the time Carine's black Mercedes pulled up behind me, I'd regained a semblance of control.

I didn't look up when the car doors opened and shut behind me.

I heard approaching footsteps and only looked up when they stopped outside my car.

Earnest pulled open the door and crouched down beside me.

I could not bring myself to look into his face—I did not want him to see the death in my eyes; I did not want to expose the depth of my suffering to him.

"Edythe?"

Slowly, I turned my eyes away. In the passenger seat, the apparition of Beau's form smiled encouragingly at me.

 _Go on,_ it said, _Talk to him. It'll make you feel better._

I blinked, and the ghost was gone.

Earnest repeated my name, and I turned to look at him. He reached for my hand, folding it between both of his.

 _I'm so sorry… I hate to see you suffer… What can I do for you?_

I shook my head mechanically. "Nothing, Earnest," I breathed, "There's nothing."

 _Come with us to Denali. We're going to visit with the cousins for awhile—to be around family will—_

"No," I interrupted him, "I can't. I… Just can't be around people right now."

My parents' concern and heartbreak grew exponentially in the face of my denial, and they exchanged worried glances.

"Edythe," Carine spoke quietly, "Healing can only come from—"

"I'm not going to go into seclusion," I assured her before she could continue. I wasn't in the mood for her motherly advice at present. The words held no authority—I wasn't entirely sure _where_ I was going to go, or what I was going to do. For all I knew, I'd hole myself up in an attic somewhere, but I couldn't let my parents think that. I scrambled for some semblance of purpose, a task, however menial…

 _Where will you go?_ Carine wondered. _Our family is not complete without you, Edythe._

The answer surfaced slowly as I attempted to conceive a task that would distract me sufficiently. Something that would somehow equalize my desire to protect the boy I'd left behind, and help me shift toward some aspect of a new life without him.

With my family gone from his life, there remained little danger to him in the small town of Forks, Washington. Other than acts of God, there was little that stood between him and perfect safety. Except…

A pair of deep crimson eyes appeared from the black fog of my mind—set in a pale, sharply angled face, with a mop of flame-colored hair…

Victor had originally aided Joss in her attempt to track and hunt Beau last Spring. When he'd disappeared abruptly part-way through the chase, we'd thought nothing of it. We'd been distracted by getting to Beau on time, and doing away with the tracker. With that done, his whereabouts had simply slipped from my mind. I'd been more focused on Beau's recovery and recuperation, and then prom, and then the most blissful summer I'd ever known—all passing without incident…

But it seemed obvious now, that this would be the perfect course of action to take. Victor was the only threat that remained to Beau, and it was the least I could do to ensure he'd remain safe from now on.

It did not surpass my suspicions that, once Victor discovered we'd done away with his mate, that he would want revenge. And what better revenge would he have against me than to kill my own mate in exchange for obliterating his?

Barely a second had passed, and I perked up now, a thrill of eagerness going through me. For a singular moment, I was distracted by the pain. I turned to my parents and very calmly appraised both of their faces.

"I'm going to track Victor," I told them, "And then I'm going to kill him."

.

My parents did not allow me to depart without a fight. Earnest was immediately concerned that I would be in over my head. Carine debated offering to come with me, but I denied her offer before she could speak it.

"I have to do this on my own," I told her, "It'll bring me… Peace."

I could see it then—the way tracking Victor would bring some sort of conclusion, some sort of absolution… The empty maw in my chest yawned when my mind skipped over the endeavor, to _after_ … What would I do? When the deed was finished, would I return to my family? Or would I wander, like the nomadic demon I was…?

The black waves pulled me under for a long while as I contemplated the unknown future. I could see nothing after Victor's demise, and I could only hope I would find another distraction along the way.

I continued south once my parents relented—placated only by the knowledge that Archie would be looking out for me, and that I would request help if I needed it. I'd only been driving for an hour when my cell phone began to buzz in the cup holder.

 _It's Archie,_ Beau's ghost guessed from the passenger seat, and I whipped my head toward him. The most solid part of him was his eyes—eyes with which he appraised me severely. _He's gonna tell you where to find Victor… Don't do it, Edythe. I'm not worth it._

I shook my head, unable to respond. Had I truly gone crazy? I'd surmised the former apparition outside of Charlie's house to be a fit of acute heartbreak. But now, it had returned not once, but twice. Was I having fits?

I ought to have spoken to Carine about it—she might have had an idea of what was going on with me, though she'd only specialized in psychiatry briefly. I wondered if I should worry about the state of mind I was in, but decided it wasn't worth the anxiety.

I felt firmly aware of my surroundings—too aware, in fact, and the one being I felt murderous desire for wholeheartedly deserved it.

My cell phone buzzed again, and I reached for it, realizing I'd found myself distracted.

"Archie."

"You rang?" So he was trying, at least. Archie wasn't one to hold a grudge for very long, and I had never been more glad for it.

"Actually, you did."

Archie sighed. "Edy… You sound awful. How are you?"

I swallowed the brick wedged in my throat, and blinked against the burn of my eyes. "Determined," I told him, ignoring the true implication of his question.

"Of course you are… But you can only stay distracted for so long, Edythe, and—"

"Are you going to help me or not, Archie?" I snapped—the brief flash of anger freed a tiny portion of my mind from the yearning to turn back toward Forks.

"Fine," he relented, and was quiet for a moment. "He's… Somewhere in Illinois… Or maybe, Indiana… I think. It's difficult to tell for sure." His voice changed, gaining more substance as he re-oriented himself on the present. "Head in that direction—I'll call you with an update."

"Thanks, Archie."

"Yeah."

"I'll talk to you soon."

"Sure," he said, "Hey… Edythe?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm still mad at you." But his voice lacked the tenor of anger, and it made me smile, if only briefly. "Ha," he said, satisfied, "Made you smile."

Shaking my head, and still smirking to myself, I hung up the phone.

.

It took me just over a day to make the trek cross-country.

I still hadn't heard from Archie when I made it to Illinois, so I headed toward Chicago. Soon after, I found myself parked in front of the house I'd grown up in as a child. Of course, it had been updated and restored—but the outside looked almost the same as it always had.

There was the same, towering elm in the front yard, the faded brick of the brownstone still there, still sturdy. I gazed for a very long time at the upper-right window of the room I used to sleep in as a child.

All of these things came to me as matters of fact. The memories attached to them were indistinct and blurry; I didn't remember much of my human life, at least where emotion was attached to it.

But sitting here now, I felt an abrupt longing for the simplicity of the human life I'd left behind. There was a part of me that would always long for it, would always wish things could have wound up differently… Alas, they had not, and I had ended up here—thoroughly creating a mess of my only chance at happiness…

I forced Victor to the forefront of my thoughts before my heart could take another blow.

I regretted now, not listening to him more closely in the clearing the night Joss's hunt had begun. Jessamine had seen the male as more of a threat than the female, but obviously, I'd been too distracted by her sudden rapture with Beau's scent to pay much mind to that.

From what I'd gathered, Victor had been highly valued in Joss's mind as a stealthy reconnaissance. Of course, he'd traversed through Forks easily, digging up information on Beau almost without effort, it had seemed. It was clear he was very comfortable in the human world, despite his feline instincts.

And there had been something else there, in his thoughts—an air of mystery, something I couldn't quite sense… Was that part of what made him so good at hiding?

Of course, being discreet was an essential to any nomad's lifestyle. I remembered back to my own vigilante days. Exposure was always the confronting issue, but even nowadays, disposable humans were relatively easily to come by. Runaways and prostitutes, murderers and rapists… Hikers and campers…

Regardless, he wouldn't stay in one area for long. In time, would he gravitate south? I had always preferred to stay in the northern, larger cities in my human-hunting days. The criminals tended to gravitate toward the larger cities, and I happened across less of my own kind there, settling easily into isolation.

Could I do so again? Now that I knew what being entirely _not_ alone felt like? Of course, traditional hunting was far behind me, but regardless. The isolation would be the same.

I shook my head, and turned my thoughts once again to the immortal I hunted.

Victor, clearly, would not be as finicky with his victims as I had been. He had no regard for wrong and right; he had no agenda, only the craving to fulfill his appetites.

At that moment, my cell phone began to ring. I had it to my ear before it had finished its tone.

"Somewhere near Rockford," Archie reported, "There was a recent 'animal mauling' there… Sorry. That's all I've got."

"It's enough. Thank you, Archie, for giving me a starting place. I'll move forward on my own, now."

"Are you—"

"Please, Archie. Continue on with your normal life. Spend time with Jessamine, and the family. I'll talk to you when I can."

Archie sighed heavily on the other line. "I'm holding you to that."

"Don't worry about me—I'll be fine. I don't need your surveillance." Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. "And don't be looking out for him, either, Archie. You need to let him continue on with his life, without any interference from us."

He didn't answer.

"Do you understand?"

"Fine," he relented.

.

I ended up in a bar on the north side of the town Archie had directed me to.

It was a grimy, ill-lit place. At this time of night, the only frequenters were men and women of mild to moderate inebriation. I picked up a newspaper from the front and took a seat at the end of the bar.

"Can I get you anything?" the bartender asked me. He eyed me suspiciously, wondering if I was old enough to be frequenting such an establishment.

"Coffee, please," I told him, offering a polite smile. I wouldn't drink it, but it would give an air of normality.

I glanced down at the paper on the countertop in front of me, and found—immediately—what I was looking for.

 _Young Hiker Succumbs to Brutal Animal Attack. Officials Warn to Stay Clear of Obscure Trails._

"Hey there, sugar. Can I buy you a drink?" A gruff looking man twice my body's age took a seat on the barstool next to mine. His too-bright, greedy eyes appraised me with an appreciation his thoughts made me privy to.

I suppressed the shiver of disgust.

Just then, the bartender placed my mug of coffee in front of me, giving answer to the man.

"Aw, c'mon. Don't you want somethin' a little stronger than that?"

"Do you know anything about this killing?" I asked him, pointing to the headline on the paper in front of me.

Confusion crossed his features. He hadn't been expecting to be de-railed in this way, but he glanced down at the page I gestured to.

I gathered the introspection and information that coursed through his mind, jogged by the memory of the report. It had been a particularly grisly murder scene—the body of the young girl had been badly beaten and mauled. I suspected this was due to Victor's need to disguise his feeding pursuits.

"Not really," the man said now, "They found her just a little ways from the campsite she was staying at with her boyfriend… Did you know her?" Suddenly, concern flashed through his thoughts. Though his intentions were not classy by any means, he seemed like a worthy man regardless.

"Um…" I said now, "Distantly."

He grunted softly. "Everybody seems to know everybody 'round here… You new to town?"

Quickly, I escaped the man's attempt at conversation, making some irrefutable excuse. I left a couple dollars under my still-full coffee mug and headed toward the scene of the murder.

If I was lucky, a trace of Victor's scent would remain. If I could gather a trail and a predictability for his feeding patterns, this quest would be almost too easy.

.

 **A/N:** So we meet again!

Like I said before, I'm so sorry it took so long for me to update! Hopefully it won't take me too long next time, but just so you're not all waiting on the tips of your toes, expect an average of 2 weeks between chapters from here on out.

ALSO—I'd love to know what you thought, and predict what is to come!

Leave your reviews, and you might just get a sneak peek of the next chapter posted in the reviews ;) You never know!


	7. Sleeping

**A/N:** Hey, my lovely readers! Sorry about the idiotic mistake I made earlier xD Thanks to everyone who alerted me to that! Yikes…. Annnywayyy…. How has your holiday season been going, everyone?! I've been busybusybusy, but I got ALL my shopping done TODAY. Which is unheard of, seeing as there's still a week (and a day) until Christmas. My husband and I celebrated our 5th year anniversary this week (sent the kids away to the grandparents' and just had a weekend to ourselves, which was lovely). But it's back to the daily grind of things now. Anyway.

This chapter was tough, and slowww for me. Been working on it pretty much every day for two weeks, and still—it's very short. I apologize for that. I'm thinking Darkest Hour is gonna turn out to be more a novella than a full-length companionship. But we still have Eclipse and Breaking Dawn ahead of us :) So, be looking forward to that!

.

The body had been removed from the murder scene at least forty-eight hours earlier, but I could still catch the remaining notes of its scent. I processed the young girl's fragrance, the notes of lavender and cedarwood, slightly marred by the slight tinge of marijuana. Underneath that, I was able to catch Victor's scent mixed in with the girl's.

It was enough to give me a vague start, and I followed his faint trail into the trees.

The trajectory of his aroma was spotty, at best. Granted, I had never tried my hand at tracking before, but even beyond my limited know-how, I knew he possessed talent in the area of avoidance.

He seemed to have followed as straight a trail as possible, barely brushing against the foliage around him.

Two miles from the scene of the murder, I found a single one of his hairs wedged in the bark of a tree. I pinched it between my fingers, bringing it to my nose and inhaling deeply—committing the fullness of his scent to my memory.

The next note of his aroma I caught was fresher, only hours old, and my anticipation swelled. His scent guided me like a shining beacon, leading me to the place where I could release my fury and angst.

But as my feet carried me north across the terrain, Victor's scent began to fade, each hint of his aroma spacing farther and farther apart.

I had to backtrack several times, bouncing between Illinois's borders and Wisconsin's, before, hours later, I was able to pick his fragrance up again to the north-east. I followed the path for a long while until I reached Lake Michigan, where Victor's scent abruptly vanished.

I stood on the bank of the lake, staring out over the navy blue water, tinged silver in the light of the moon now. I strained for a glimpse of red, or a flash of white skin. Seeing nothing, I traversed up and down the shoreline for several minutes, searching for a stronger scent, but ultimately finding nothing of consequence.

I returned to the place where Victor's scent had originally faded, and folded my arms across my chest. He'd gone into the water here, I was sure of it. Crossing waterways was a well-known measure of evasion for vampires. Our scent could not be contained on the currents of a body of water, and so, each trail would effectively be evaporated. It had been why my mother, sister and I had taken a boat across the Strait of Juan du Fuca last Spring, when we'd conveyed Joss away from Forks. We wanted it to be clear to her exactly where we had gone.

There were numerous places I could possibly pick up his scent again. My mind flipped through each quickly, a catalogue of copious information. He could have gone straight across to Michigan, or he could have continued to swim north and ended up somewhere in northern Wisconsin.

It made sense to me that he would take cover in the Huron-Manistee National Forest, but then, he also could have done the same in the Chequamegon-Nicolet—though farther north, just as discreet.

With so little knowledge of his personality and endeavors, I was at a loss. Where was he going? What was his goal? What did he _want_?

He didn't seem to be heading anywhere close to Washington's direction—for which I was glad. I did not want to urge him in that direction, or give him any ideas.

Quite honestly, I had not expected to come across his scent so quickly. Had I expected the battle to be won so effortlessly? Had I thought so little of my enemy? Regardless of if he knew he was being followed or not, he'd obviously survived this long with more than enough blood on his hands to warrant revenge—if the indication of Joss's history had been any suggestion.

I pulled myself to my feet, took a breath, and surged into the water, intent on picking up his trail once more—somewhere, somehow.

.

It took me all night to relocate Victor's scent.

I was correct in my assumption that he'd employed some subterfuge to keep whoever might be following him off his tail. I still couldn't fathom how he might know I was following him, and why he wouldn't just turn and face me, if that were the case. Perhaps it had something to do with the aura of mystery in his thoughts. Not that I could not read them clearly—rather, there was something entirely unidentifiable… Some cunning, deceiving part of his psyche that was wholly differentiated from his thought processes.

Regardless of this fact, I was still intent on seeing my goals through.

It was only when morning dawned, and the sun flooded the sky with warmth and brightness, that I thought of the boy I'd left behind. Until then, I hadn't thought of him the whole night through.

Now, as I paused on the edge of Milwaukee's civilation, Beau's specter appeared to me. It did not say anything—his bright cerulean eyes only appraised me seriously and quietly. His ghost watched as I paused, undecided over where to go next.

Victor's scent carried on ahead of me, into the bright-lit city, but I was safe here, in the cover of the trees. Victor had obviously made his passage hours before, when it had still been dark enough to disguise the effects the sun would have on his skin.

I was too late to follow him now, forced into seclusion by the rising rays of the sun. Caged by their relentless bars.

 _What are you going to do now?_ Beau's ghost questioned.

What now, indeed.

.

Time slowed to the indiscernible passing of a shadow.

Days, or weeks—maybe more—passed without a trace from Victor, and my leads quickly fizzled away.

I was left with nothing else to do but sit and wait for another clue. And while I waited, the memories would torture me.

" _H-how do you know my name?"_

" _That wasn't very nice… That thing you do—with the hypnotizing and the dimples…"_

"… _It doesn't matter to me what you are…"_

" _I love you, Edythe…"_

" _I want to be with you… Forever."_

They sucked me under, their waves inexorable, and I drowned in them time and time again

.

More time passed. I knew this, because the shadows swept across the tree I sat rigidly against time and time again. My capably comprehending brain catalogued the sunrises and sunsets without trouble, and I could have accessed the number of days that had passed if I'd wanted to, but I didn't bother.

The passage of time was enough that the atmosphere around me cooled, and the trees changed color. The animals and birds gave me a wide berth, and as more time passed, their numbers grew smaller. Some lapsed into hibernation—the bears and groundhogs to name a few. Others flew south for the winter.

I, however, stayed where I was, un-breathing and unnaturally still. A statue, trapped in an inescapable swirl of torture and agony. The memories plagued me, drowned me in their black depths for an immeasurable length of time.

If it had not caused me so much pain, I would have reveled in the perfect recall of Beau's features, his voice, our conversations and nights spent together, curled together on his narrow bed.

If it had not caused me so much pain, I would have sat in a dreamlike state forever. However, as it was, the state I was in was not dreamlike. It was as if I were frozen in a nightmare, or chained to an electric chair submerged in an inch of water.

The pain was immobilizing, depriving me of all reason after a time, after it had overcome me enough times, and in its various ways.

I sat still for so long that my body and hair became coated in the filth and grime from the forest floor and the ether around me. Rain and dirt turned into mud, vicious winds whipped my hair into tangles and knots. A thick coat of dirt and dust covered my impenetrable skin.

While my exterior gathered copious vegetation and mess, my veins dried out and I went thirsty. I knew my eyes would be black as pitch, but I ignored the thirst that turned to hunger that turned to starvation for a very long time.

I ignored it for so long that the urges were finally lost on me, and though I knew death by starvation was not possible for a vampire, I wondered if it was something I would eventually, gladly, succumb to. I almost wished for it. To sit and stare, to wallow in my depression, my filth, my pain, until famine overtook me. To feel as frail and groundless as a ghost, to take that form in some ethereal, insubstantial way—to allow it to become me, to take my identity, to reduce me to nothing, and then… When I was finally devoid of every emotion, every sensation, every sense of being and vivacity, it would take me…

But alas, this did not happen.

Eventually, the hunger did overtake me, but not in the way I'd been illogically hoping.

A small herd of deer passed close enough for me to catch their scent, and I acted without thinking.

I fed hungrily and savagely, making a mess of my clothes and face and hair. I'd taken down two of the does before I'd come to my full senses, and took down another and the buck before finally feeling satiated.

When their carcasses lay drained and empty at my feet, I stood in the very empty, very quiet forest and realized, for the first time, just how much time that had passed. A fine cover of frost and frozen persperation coated everything, and the ground beneath my feet was solid and unyielding.

Two months, at _least_ , had passed while I had sat, unmoving and traumatized by my own memories.

I was stunned and terrified that I had been as unaware and overcome as long as I'd been. As oblivious as I'd been to my surroundings, what would it have taken to 'wake' me, if not for the biological urge to feed?

I shuddered to think of Victor, or someone like him, stumbling across me, discovering me in the state I'd been…

I patted my pockets for my cell phone, realizing my family would be worried about me, wanting an update, but came up empty. I traced my own winding, inconsistent trail back to the tree I'd sat against for who knows how long, and located my bag.

I pulled the cell phone out of the front pocket and found its battery dead.

I straightened, pulling the strap over my shoulder.

Fed and a little more clear-minded than I felt I'd been in awhile, I made my way toward the nearby lake.

First on the agenda was getting myself clean. On the bank of the expansive body of water, littered through with blocks of ice, I stripped, and then waded into the shallows until I was waist deep.

I submerged myself to rinse my matted and dirty hair, but I did not stay under long. The strange muted silence and stillness made me anxious.

When I was clean and had changed my clothes, I looped back to bury the carcasses of the deer—uprooting a nearby tree and stowing them in the earth underneath, as well as my bloodied clothes.

When that was finished, I headed in the direction of civilization, to find a cell phone charger and, hopefully, an inkling of where Victor might be. He might've traveled a long ways, and as absent as I'd been, I didn't have a clue where he'd gone. I could only hope he'd left enough of a paper trail—dotted and smeared with the blood of his victims—for me to follow.

.

 **A/N:** Again, sorry for the short one, guys! If you have a minute, let me know what you thought—I promise, the next chapter, Edythe will get moving again, and a lot more will happen.

I won't see you all again before the New Year, so have a very merry Christmas, and a fun and safe New Year's Eve! xo


	8. Texas

**A/N:** Happy holidays, readers, and Merry Christmas! I figured I might surprise you with those one, seeing as I have it done. Enjoy, and we'll talk at the end!

(If you did not get a notification for the updated Chapter 7, go back and read that first. I've fixed it, and it's ready to go. Then come back and read this one.)

.

The bitter winds of St. John's, Newfoundland had its occupants huddling closer together to stay warm. I walked with my head down, arms folded across my chest. Of course, I was not affected by the cold. But I had to act like I was.

Lucky for me—not so lucky for him—Victor had been getting lazy. It was almost too easy, now, to follow his tracks. His most recent victim had been an unlucky prostitute and her would-be murderer. I would have questioned Victor's intentions if he had not gone on ahead to feed on the victim as well.

The scenes he left behind were almost too familiar, but I did not have the time to wonder about that.

I paused at the edge of a sidewalk, waiting for my turn to cross. Vehicles zipped by by in both directions, but I paid no mind to their passage. I focused, instead, on Victor's very potent scent trail. This was the closest I'd ever been to him, and I was very tempted to wind my way through the passing traffic, if it would have not caused a scene.

I was intent on staying conspicuous—Victor, however, had slackened a bit in his typical stealthy tendencies. He never stayed in one area for too long—perhaps he was aware of the fact he was being followed—but it did not stop the police from growing suspicious. Where before, he'd been careful to bury the blood-drained bodies, or deposit them in rivers or lakes to explain the significant blood loss, now he was less careful about his disposal techniques.

His most recent victims had been discovered only a mile apart, each left in dumpsters behind non-descript buildings—bite marks plainly evident.

If this indolent way of feeding continued, reports would undeniably get back to the Volturi—and I was not about to let that happen. This time, I _would_ get my justice. This kill would be _mine_.

Now, across the way, a group of males were gathered, bundled up for the late-December cold, weighed down with shopping bags.

It was Christmas Eve, I suddenly realized. My family had called multiple times over the last few days—which was unusual for them. Usually, they allowed me to check in with them. But now it made sense—they must have wanted me to join them for the holiday season.

Heavy guilt filled the hollow cavern of my empty belly.

 _What a looker,_ one of the men thought, eyeing me without much subtlety.

 _I'd like her for_ my _Christmas present,_ another thought.

The light changed and myself, along with the other pedestrians, stepped out into the street. The group of boys' mental chatter grew louder and more obscene the closer together we grew. When we were not five feet from each other, one of them let out a low whistle.

"Hey sweet thing," he called, "Can I put a bow on you and call you mine?"

Reflexively, I glanced up into the face of the one who had spoken. Immediately, his expression, which had been filled with lustful interest, slackened into one of abject fear.

 _Christ,_ he thought, _Those eyes._

Not only his, but the rest of his friends' thoughts, were suddenly askance with reflexive instinct and natural horror.

 _"You don't scare me,"_ Beau murmured in my ear.

As we passed, the men did not say another word to me, suddenly intent on getting home to wrap their Christmas presents.

It was true, I'd let myself go over the past couple of months. I wasn't trying as hard to uphold the unassuming human charade. I was letting myself go too long between feedings. The obsidian flatness of my eyes was more common than the well-fed gold these days.

Without the boy I'd left behind to keep me carefree and light, I had no reason to pretend for others. I had my mind set on one thing, and one thing only—to find Victor. And I was sure it filled every facet of my body with murderous tendencies and affects.

Not only was I filled with the homicidal one-mindedness, but I was also empty. Empty of feeling, empty of emotion, empty of being. Being without the boy I loved was killing me in the worst way—because I could not be killed. I was forever doomed to an eternity of emotional torture in his absence.

I kept waiting for the pain to lessen, for my focus to fully shift to the task I'd immersed myself in. But the longer I stayed away, the more it hurt. More and more often, I was having to talk myself out of going back to Forks, just to check on him, just to see if he was okay. He wouldn't even have to see me—I would be like a passage of wind, there and then gone.

But I couldn't do that. I'd made a promise—both to myself and to him. He had a life to live. A life _worth_ living; but only without me.

 _Two weeks,_ I told myself. _You can endure for two more weeks._

The two weeks passed without incident. I followed Victor all the way across Canada, south to Montana, and then further toward Texas. I told myself I could hang on for another two weeks, and re-evaluate then.

Another two weeks would pass. _One more week,_ I would beseech myself, _You can last just one more._

One more week turned into another and another and another, and then half a week, and then two days.

Pretty soon, I was cajoling myself at every sunset just to keep going, to focus on what I had to do, to _stay here_ , to focus on my hunt.

The aching plague never eased. Each day was harder than the last, the fight to focus on my task at hand and to resist returning to Forks harder and harder to resist.

More than a mere phantom or ghost, the pain had taken up solid residence. No longer the burn of a memory or the hopelessness of a would-be nightmare, it was a living, breathing entity. An animal with claws which dug at my back, tore at my skin, bit and scraped, gouged holes from my very being. It seemed intent on devouring me from the inside out, but I would endure this agony for as long as I could. Because while I suffered, Beau lived.

However, as much as I thought I was focusing my efforts on finding Victor, he seemed to be putting more distance between us again. I found myself losing patience with the hunt, beginning to resent it. Each morning I would be forced to go into hiding—to find a place sunless and cool where I would not be detected for what I was.

I could only hope that, while I was hiding, Victor was hiding too.

And each twilight would see me hauling myself from my hiding place, loathe to move, to breathe, to search. I could not say I was content to sit so still in my daydreaming, to remember with perfect clarity every detail of the boy I'd left behind. But it did make it more difficult to continue my hunt when all I wanted to do was return to the place I would always consider my home—and not only because of the home my family owned there.

Before I knew it, months had passed—a multitude of them.

Victor seemed to be migrating toward central Texas—Houston, maybe. His travels were less frequent now—however, my struggle to locate him did not decrease. I was beginning to severely doubt my menial tracking abilities. If I could not find him in a single state, how skilled a hunter was I, really?

The sun had set and I was on my way back into the city after hunting for the first time in three weeks. Though I knew it was foolish to go so long between feedings, it was difficult to bring myself to do so, to separate myself from the tracking and the waiting and the searching. I hated to delegate my senses, to be distracted even for a moment.

Now, I heard the scuffle, the struggle of human thoughts.

The city of Houston had fallen into humid darkness, and I was on an edge of the city where the buildings were worn with disuse and squalor.

"My wallet's right here," I heard a young man plead, "There's not much in it, but you're welcome to it."

I froze where I stood as the whirling blackness dragged me back through time, to a small village south of Forks, where another young man had been faced with a group of ill-minded gang members. He'd spoken these exact words, faced down with a gun and the groups' foul intentions.

"Don't move," one of the gruff men spoke. He didn't want the money. He was focused only on one thing. The boy he held at gunpoint held deeper relevance for him than I had first assumed. There was some sort of political connection, whether this was affiliated by truth or possible delusions, I did not know.

His mind was convoluted and without pattern. I suspected some sort of instability there, whether that was due to intoxication or something else, I wasn't sure. The other two men restrained the boy, stoic and unspeaking.

"Look," the boy said now, "Just tell me what you want and you can have it—please."

Unconsciously, I'd drifted in the shadowed alleyway's direction. I forced myself to stop where I was.

 _This is none of your concern,_ I reminded myself. _Don't pay it any mind._

It would be foolhardy to get myself involved in this kind of dealing. A quick call to 9-1-1 would suffice. I should let mortal protection deal with the mortal wrong-doings occurring here.

I started to turn away, but then I got a glimpse of the young man's face through the blurred and distorted perception of the man with a gun. There was something about his face, so open and vulnerable, pale and innocent. His wide blue eyes gleamed with provision and fear.

This could be someone's Beau…

And before I knew what I was doing, I'd not only broken the gunman's wrist, but dislocated his shoulder as well, doing away with the weapon. His shout of pain sounded moments after I'd disarmed not only him, but the two men restraining the boy as well.

They scattered, but the gunman, intent on having his way, intent on murdering the blameless boy, searched wildly for his gun.

I wheeled on him, clutching him around the throat and pinning him against the alley wall.

"You don't deserve my mercy," I hissed in his face.

His mind was wordless with terror and confusion. His heart pounding, the blood racing in his veins, and my jaws ached, my mouth filled with venom… It would only be fitting to…

 _"Are you okay?"_ Beau's voice was quiet and hoarse, and it startled me from my distraction, from the grave error staring me in the face.

"No," I hissed, clenching my jaw against the animalistic, murderous urges pummeling through my desiccated veins.

Gathering every menial vestige of strength I had left, I released my grip on the man's throat and he slumped, coughing and wheezing, toward the alley floor. But I gripped the back of his jacket, hauling him to his feet and shoving him toward the alleyway's entrance. Despite his struggle to breathe, he didn't look back as he fled, not even for his gun.

A hammering heart and spiking breath reminded me that I was not alone. I did not turn toward the stunned human boy.

"Who… What… Are you…?" he managed after a long, quiet moment. When I looked into his face, I did not only see terror and confusion, but fascination as well. In his mind, he flicked through a catalogue of comics, books and movies he'd seen.

 _But what if I'm not the superhero…?_

 _"Dangerous…"_ Beau mused, _"But not the villain…"_

"Go," I snapped coldly at the boy now, who stood in front of me, unmoving. "Get out of here."

He complied immediately, stooping to gather the things he'd dropped, and hurried past me.

His confused thoughts faded as he hurried toward the brightly lit street.

After some time—I wasn't sure exactly how long—I headed back toward the main streets to continue my search for Victor's scent. It was all over the city. He'd been here, there and everywhere, and though his trail was not as easy to follow here amongst the concrete and the asphalt, I was able to follow where he led.

Before my mind could torture me with more memories, I allowed the smell to consume me and I followed it north.

I was surprised when the trail led me out of the city, along the highway, and out to the countryside. Victor did not stop for a long while, and I realized he was following the main roadways… Why?

If he was trying to evade someone, wouldn't he want to take a roundabout route like before?

Then I heard the gunshot and the scream.

The sound would not have reached human ears, as far out as I was, but I heard it perfectly, and I knew that only one thing would instill the terror of those shouts.

I hurled myself across the grassy planes toward the horror-stricken farmhouse.

.

 **A/N:** Oh boy… A cliff-hanger. Just one little question—would you guys prefer longer chapters, but less of them? Or are these short installments fine with you? It'll entail more chapters, but shorter ones, of course.

Let me know, and I'll see you next time! :)


	9. Heading South

**A/N:** Surprise! A quick update—AND a longer chapter to boot! I'm gaining momentum, building to the moment when Beau and Edythe are reunited, and it's not far off now, if you can't tell by the changing seasons and her advent toward Brazil. I've never been so excited for the worst misunderstanding ever! Lol!

.

The silence of the looming pretty white farmhouse did not bode well for its inhabitants. The soft blue shutters shone brightly in the light of the full moon of early Spring, and the window on the second level, on the far left side, was open a crack.

It was through that window that the scent of fresh blood—and lots of it—drifted. My throat burst into flames when I tasted the essence of at least three humans, one flavor more potent than the others. The notes of pine, timber, mint… This one brought back torturous, blissful memories, and I immediately shut down my breathing, as well as my thoughts, in response.

I hesitated on the edge of the property, knowing that I was too late to save the formerly living family inside. There was nothing but silence from within the dwelling—no more screaming or shouting, no erratic breathing or terrorized heartbeats. Which could only mean one thing…

I strode forward, further onto the property, keeping emotion—the bubbling fury, the simmering pity for the family—out of it. It was not my job to clean up after Victor, nor was it my job to mourn the inevitability of simple traditional vampire fare. My only concern was to find Victor on my own accord, for my own reasons.

A few out buildings on either side flanked the humble home, and I headed toward the garage, whose door gaped wide. Still-wet tire marks announced the recent departure of an apparent vehicle, as did the bare footprints in the snow.

I hissed lowly, cursing quietly. I'd missed Victor by a mere matter of minutes.

His scent was more strongly obscured here—muddled by the familiar scent of the human bodies abandoned in the house. Had he changed his clothes and stolen the vehicle to throw me off his trail? If he thought he was being followed by humans, he would not have taken action in this way—so I could only assume he believed he was being followed by one of his kind.

 _"Royal, get him upstairs and change clothes…"_

 _"…Earnest?"_

 _"Of course."_

I shook the too-familiar memories off.

I searched the surroundings for some inclination of the make and model of the vehicle Victor had stolen. If I could learn what he was driving, it would be easier to find him. But finding nothing in the garage, I decided to head toward the house. There had to be something inside that would clue me in—insurance, registration, a picture or an extra pair of keys.

I rounded the house toward the front porch and ascended the steps. The front door was left slightly ajar, soft flakes of swirling snow blowing in through the opening and across the faded and scratched wooden floor. I pressed the door open, but it rebounded back at me, catching on something on the other side.

I didn't push it, but squeezed myself through the narrow opening.

I discovered what had hindered my entrance, and I sighed, shaking my head sadly. A middle-aged man with a full head of steadily-going-snowy hair laid in his pajamas behind the door. The shotgun he'd attempted to protect himself and his family with lay abandoned at his side.

I did not linger too long on his state. Victor had been neither careful nor delicate with the man's means to an end.

I searched the front table for any clues on the vehicle, but found nothing.

Floorboards creaked underfoot as I walked down the narrow front hallway and turned left into the kitchen. The space was tidy and homey. A vase of sunflowers—slightly wilted—sat in the middle of the painted white kitchen table. The counters were clear of clutter and filth. There were a couple of plates in the drying rack, no dishwasher apparent.

I tried not to think of another little kitchen that housed no dishwasher.

Just a flash of a memory flitted through my mind—long and pale, sinewy hands scrubbing a chipped ceramic bowl under running water… The scent of lemon dish soap mixed with mint, pine, and just a hint of spiced timber…

I turned sharply, reorienting my attentions, but found nothing in the minuscule pile of mail by the microwave.

I went upstairs where I found Victor's second unassuming victim. The middle-aged woman—wife and mother, I was assuming—had had enough time to pull on her bathrobe, but not to tie the sash. She lay bloody and blank-eyed—in much the same condition as her husband—in the doorway of their bedroom. Her pale pink nightgown was streaked with blood.

Beyond her, inside the bedroom, was a desk. Carefully, I stepped over the woman's body to search its contents. Up here on the second floor, the scent of blood was stronger, as well as the familiar pine and timber undertones. I cut my air supply off before the recalls could suck me back and drown me.

 _"This is easier than I thought it would be…"_

 _"It is_ not _easy, and so… I would prefer if you would… follow my lead?"_

I found nothing inside the desk, and so headed back out into the hallway where—though I no longer had my sense of smell at my disposal—the strongest scent of the three called to me like a siren.

I drifted slowly toward the door at the end of the hallway, turned the crystal knob and let the door fall open before me.

At first glance, the scene would not have meant much to anyone. The mother and father of the teenage boy had obviously taken the worst of Victor's apparent wrath. But I knew that had not been the case—this was the scene of the worst atrocity.

On the small narrow bed across the room, the boy's body and face were covered by both sheet and duvet, but my eyes narrowed immediately when they focused in on the prone arm draped over the edge of the mattress. The boy's pale hand, wrist, and most of his forearm was exposed. On the tip of his finger were three pristine bite marks, the punctures clearly outlined.

Something about that hand, that scene, was so familiar, and I struggled to remain firmly planted in the present.

 _"No—hand… Edythe—right hand!"_

Slowly, as if in a trance, half aware of the scene in front of me—but more aware of the flickering of mirrors separated by a gold stripe, licks of flame and lavender smoke, the scent of acrid burning vampire, the screams of torture, the feeling that they were my own—I moved toward the bed.

I reached out to take the corner of the sheet between my fingers and very, very slowly, pulled it back.

The first thing I saw was a dark shock of slightly untidy dark hair, stark against the fair skin of his forehead. I froze with abject terror, Beau's face flashing before my eyes.

For a second, I couldn't move. I could only stare and wonder.

 _"Stay… Stay…" Stay with me, Beau…_

 _Are you safe?_

 _Where are you?_

 _I love you…_

 _I miss you… So much._

I steeled myself, and then yanked back the sheet.

And stumbled back, a squeak of shock exiting my throat.

The boy's blank, lifeless face stared at the ceiling, sky blue eyes wide and unseeing. Cloudy with death. Their blue depths were bright, but not as bright as I'd seen in a vaguely similar face. His lips were full, but there wasn't that imbalance between his top and bottom lip. No dimple in his chin. And in the very center of his chest, a fist sized hole where his heart used to be.

My empty stomach turned over and flopped uselessly. If I could have, I would have been sick.

As it was, I backed away from the room, lowering myself onto the carpet in the hallway.

 _"I miss you…"_

"It's like you've taken half of my self away with you…"

 _"Come and get it then."_

"I _will_ make this right first."

My head came up, and my eyes fixed forward, through the open doorway to the body of the boy in the bed across the room. But instead of the haunting blue eyes of my love, instead Victor's face floated into view, crimson eyes burning with rage underneath a flash of messy flame-red hair.

And then a brief image of blood, pooled in the very center of Beau's narrow mattress… His pale blue walls dripping with it…

If only I could return, just to check on him, just to make sure he was okay…

Terror seized my insides. _Is he safe?_

I was suddenly consumed with illogical, unthinking anxiety. My mind swirled in chaotic, disorienting circles.

I was certain that Victor knew I was following him.

The bite mark on the boy's finger… The blue eyes, the dark hair and pale skin… How could I not draw the conclusion?

I jumped to my feet, wild with worry and motivation. Was he heading back toward Forks at this very moment? Was Beau in danger?

My feet took me from the farmhouse and across the wide expanse of farmland. My heart flew, metaphorically, in my chest. Suddenly, there was no hole, no bludgeoned cavern of heartbreak. Just in the face of the possibility of returning home, I'd been healed completely.

My trip would be brief, I promised myself. I'd leap and cling to the edge of his windowsill; I would peer inside and find him sleeping peacefully, safe and warm in his bed. And then…

And then I would never be able to leave again… Because one glance would undeniably morph into one more touch, one more kiss, one more night to hear his voice and feel his arms around me…

I pulled up short, thrown for a moment by how far I'd travelled while distracted by both memory and prospect.

I wrapped my arms around myself, as if to restrain my errant mind and body.

"No," I said to myself, "Victor. It's Victor you want. He's safer without you."

 _"… if you hadn't involved me in your world, Charlie and Renee would have lost me months ago…"_

 _"Don't leave me."_

 _"Next time you decide to ignore me for my own good… Could you let me know ahead of time?"_

The wordless howl of pain escaped with blistering heat, raging, burning pain. I sunk to the ground, not entirely sure where I was, and curled myself into a ball.

"No," I sobbed into curled knees. "I can't, I can't!"

 _"Please… Don't go."_

 _"Promise me something…"_

I didn't answer him. I couldn't.

 _"That we'll stick together from now on—for good."_

 _"I don't want that part to end… The part where we're together. Forever."_

 _"I love you."_

"I love you…" I whispered.

.

It was impossible—and yet, it was the only thing I had any wherewithal to do.

Constantly being distracted by Beau's voice didn't make tracking Victor any easier than it had already been—and it hadn't been.

But by now I was certain he knew it was me who was tracking him. Why else would he have set the scene at the farmhouse? Why else the blue eyed boy, the replicated bite mark on the tip of his finger? Why the brutal murder in absence of an ensuing feed?

This murder scene, and only this murder scene, was what kept my search alive. Many a time I entertained succumbing to my natural urge to shut down beneath the stress of my burdened mind. But I could not be certain whether Beau was in any sort of danger. And as long as Beau roamed this earth, no matter how far apart we remained, I _would_ continue to protect him.

No matter how steadily I was losing ground on my tenuous grasp at cognizance, I was self-aware enough to know that Beau's safety was the one thing that mattered.

I could shatter underneath the crippling agony of forcing myself to stay away from him. I would gladly go mad if it meant that it kept Beau safe.

In eliminating the two things that were most dangerous to his life—myself, done; Victor, shortly—I would be successful in that endeavor.

However, the next clue I discovered had me hesitating.

Victor had evaded me for an upwards of two weeks before I was finally able to catch his scent trail again—several hundred miles east of Houston. It led me to a small rural library in Georgia, to the very back of the small building.

His scent was strongest at one of the computer kiosks. Obviously he'd been there, touched the keys, had sat in this chair.

It was almost too easy to run my fingertips across the keyboard, enter a few keystrokes, and pull up the search history. Within a matter of seconds, I was staring at an airline reservation due to depart from Atlanta in two hours. The flight was to arrive in Sao Paulo, Brazil nine and half hours later.

The registration was under the name of one Victor Stoker.

If circumstances had not been what they were, I would have smiled at the nomad's satirical cleverness. As it was, I did not smile. Rather, I felt my eyebrows pull together and the corners of my lips turned down when I realized I would never make it to the ATL with enough time to spare—even moving at vampiric speed.

Without hesitation, I booked the next available flight. It would put me hours behind his arrival, and with Guarulhos International being the busiest airport in the region, it would pose a certain degree of difficulty to locate his scent. But I was sure, with the way I'd been tracking him for months, it couldn't be _too_ difficult. I would find him again, no matter how long it took.

I sat back in the chair, suddenly hesitant. As I'd recalled before, Victor was known for both his gift of evasion, and his knack for playing games. I wondered which of these this was, and suddenly regretted my impromptu ticket purchase. Not for the waste of money, but for the waste of time and expenditure.

What was the good in putting even more distance between myself and Beau when I wasn't even sure Victor was leaving the country?

I groaned very softly, re-inserted my AmEx into my purse, and stood while simultaneously fishing my cell phone from the outside pocket.

.

"Hi there."

I waited for the jab, or the snide, dejected remark, but nothing came.

Victor could evade me forever—as much as I hated to admit it—but there was one person he'd never be able to hide from.

"Archie. I assume you know why I'm calling."

Archie sighed softly. "You're not doing well, Edy… I haven't been watching you on purpose, I guarantee it, but your pain's not an easy thing to ignore… Please—we all miss you…"

"I only called for your help, Archie. I can't come home now. You know that." I forced a modicum of softness into my voice, knowing his concern for me was well-placed. "Not now. Can you just tell me…"

"I can't even talk you into a short visit…?" There was no bitterness, no anger whatsoever, in his tone, and it had been so long since I'd spoken to my brother, let alone seen him. I missed my family with an acute ache. It was a dull throb in comparison to the other, competing agonies, but it only served to add to my suffering.

"Unfortunately not. If you wouldn't mind, Archie? I don't have a lot of time here…"

"I know, I know. I just thought… Nevermind. Give me a minute." He paused for less than two seconds on the other line. "I don't see you catching him, you know. I see you in Forks, with Beau, where you _should_ be. Where you'd _both_ be happy—"

" _Archie_."

"Fine, fine. As I was saying—I don't see much success on your end… Victor's harder to see. He doesn't plan much, acts mostly on instinct…" He made a small, frustrated sound in the back of his throat. "Sun. Water. Bright colors. It's warm, humid—his victim will wear light clothes, but it's hazy… Unfocused… They're in shadow… Sorry."

"Anything else?" A sunny, humid place could be just about anywhere east of here. I didn't want to traverse continents on a _maybe_.

"I'm sorry, Edy. Nothing."

I sighed. Maybe I could start by searching near the airport, seeing if I could pick up—

"Oh," Archie suddenly interrupted me, "You'll find his scent at the gate. It won't be very strong—hours old and a busy place—but you'll find it. I'd go for it."

"Thanks, Arch."

"'Course. Call sooner next time, will you? Earnest misses you."

Guilt lanced through me. "I know. I'll try."

"Bye, Edy."

"Bye."

.

Archie was right.

Victor's fragrance was present in and around the airport. It wasn't until I made my way through security with my seat booked and my baggage checked, that I was able to get to the gate Victor's flight had departed from. The scent was extremely faint, but it was enough to solidify my confidence a bit. I didn't feel like I was going out on a limb so much anymore, and my anxiety faded incrementally in the face of my soon-to-depart flight.

I found a seat away from the windows, but as soon as I sat down, my cell phone started to ring.

I thought it might be Archie again, or Eleanor, who'd been texting me more and more frequently as the months had passed, but when I pulled the mobile device out of my pocket and checked the Caller ID, I was surprised.

I stood and pulled the phone to my ear.

"Dad?"

"Edythe," Earnest said, and his voice was heavy with sadness. "I was hoping you would have paid us a visit by now."

The guilt washed anew, weighed heavy on my chest. "I'm sorry," I murmured, "Now isn't a good time. I'm actually waiting for a flight south."

"South?" Surprise was sharp in my father's voice. "Where are you going?"

"It doesn't matter," I told him, not wanting to worry him more than need be. "All that is important is that this is almost over. And when it is… I'll come and see you." I could make that promise. I didn't know how long I would stay, or where I would go afterwards, but I could guarantee my father I'd see him again soon.

Earnest sighed heavily, and there was a long pause. Though I could not read his mind from this distance, I knew his personality so well. There was something he wasn't telling me.

"What is it? Is Carine okay? The others?" El hadn't texted me in at least nine hours. Had something happened in the interim?

"I know this is selfish of me to ask, but… Come home, Edythe," Earnest begged. "We miss you. This chase can't be worth the sacrifice you're making. Our family is not complete without you. Please. Everyone is fine and well, but not one of us feels whole without you."

I bowed my head, cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder as if I could embrace my father through the small silver device. "I can't do that," I finally admitted in little more than a whisper. "Not right now. I _need_ to do this first."

"I won't try to convince you," Earnest said, "Lord knows Archie does enough of that when you speak with him. Just know your father is waiting for you to return… Be safe, sweetheart."

For a moment I could not speak, the emotion was so thick in my throat. "Always," I managed to promise.

Behind me, the first on my flight were being called to board.

"I have to go now, Earnest. Please tell everyone 'hello' for me."

"I will. Goodbye, Edythe."

.

 **A/N:** And, of course, we all know that Edythe's attempts will be made in vain. I'm thinking there'll be one more chapter between now and Royal's news, and then _hopefully_ —if Edythe cooperates ;)—Beau and Edythe will be reunited just a couple chapters after that.

As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

As for longer vs shorter chapters, the votes were pretty much split down the middle, so I'm attempting a sort of happy medium. Regardless, it won't matter for much longer, because we'll be back within SM's guidelines soon enough.

Hope you all have a happy and safe New Year! See you in 2018! xoxo


	10. Royal's News

**A/N:** So first off, I said there was going to be another chapter before 'Royal's News', but I lied ;) The first part of this chapter turned out to be way shorter than I thought it would be, so I combined the two together. Second, I DON'T own the second half of this chapter! Of course, I changed names and a couple little things, but you can find the original NM outtake on SM's website. While you're at it, check out all her outtakes (if you haven't) because they're awesome.

See ya!

.

If I'd been under the foolish impression that putting more distance between me and Beau would lessen the pain, I had been wrong.

Every mile that expanded between us exacerbated the pain to a degree I hadn't thought possible. It was only a matter of time before I returned to Forks—this fact was more pronounced than ever. Just the thought of it brought brief respite from the agony. Everything in me, every cell, every fiber, every inch of desiccated vein and muscle, strained toward the small, dreary town in the opposite corner of the world.

But I had to do this first.

When I disembarked my flight in Sao Paulo, it was an immense relief just to catch a hint of Victor's scent. Just a single note of it, intermixed with the people, jet fuel, heat and large machines. But it was enough. Enough to distract me, if only for a moment.

And then, as I moved through the immense throngs of people, Beau appeared at my side, sliding between the others, keeping pace with me just fine.

 _"You think you'll catch him."_

I didn't answer, only kept my gaze fixed ahead as I moved, just a little too fast, toward the exit.

 _"Archie said it himself—he sees you here. Back with me… Why is it so hard for you to listen to him?"_

I breezed through the automatic doors, out into the pre-dawn swelter of Southern Brazil. The streets were busy, disregarding the time of night, but I ignored the waiting cabs and headed away from the lights of civilization.

"I have to do this," I pleaded with him, "Please—I'll come back to you. Just let me make you safe first."

 _"I'd be safer if you were here."_

"No," I snapped the words through gritted teeth, and the visible pain on his expression lanced through me.

Part of me realized I was losing it—my grip on reality. Part of me realized that the apparitions had taken on a physical entity, a force all its own. But I was not willing to let the hallucinations go. It lessened the pain, having Beau with me—even an imagined, ghostly form.

So I hadn't gone completely mad, after all. I was aware they were hallucinations—but that didn't stop me from talking back to them. I pushed my legs harder as rural Brazil expanded before me, but still, Beau's imagined form clung to me with as much persistence as he always had.

.

The encroaching light of sunrise had forced me to find seclusion that first morning. When night finally fell again and I was able to return to the original point of Victor's evidence, the scent had vanished.

This panicked me severely for a brief instant before I came to the summarization that scents faded quickly in high-traffic areas such as this one. After all, I was in the busiest airport in the country.

Sun-filled day after sun-filled day marched by, with no resulting leads. I supposed I could have been exerting more effort to pick up a trace—listening to radio broadcasts, scouring local papers, finding a WiFi connection so I could research that way. But the unrelenting memories had found a stronger hold on me, despite the distance I had put between me and Beau. Oftentimes, I didn't come to my senses until half the night had passed, and most of my opportunity for picking up a lead had evaded me.

Mostly, I sat in some dark, dank corner or another, daydreaming of days gone by. Remembering, with perfect clarity, every word he'd spoken, every gentle thud of his heart, every smooth passage of his sweet breath… I had thought, over time, that the pain of the recall would dull in severity—despite the fact that the lucidity would not. But I was surprised, when it seemed the growing distance put even more strain on my mangled and broken heart.

I kept waiting for something to change, for something to get better, to find some glimmer of hope in an ever-darkening world. But nothing came. Nothing changed, and as the sun continued its circuitous revolutions around the earth, I found sitting still was far easier than gathering the motivation to move.

Of course, I was forced to find a different dwelling to evade the sun every few days. This, I felt, kept me mobile enough to keep from petrifying. I felt it was a very real possibility, especially in the face of my paralyzing thoughts. Always the same—the same words, the same expressions on his face, the same warmth of his arms around me, the same scent of his hair, his skin, his breath…

On the nights I found the barest of motivation to rouse myself from whichever hiding spot I had found myself in, I wandered, aimless. The changing cities blurred into one, faceless distortion. I did not see the humans. I did not hear their voices, I did not feel their warmth.

And every second of every moment, I fought with every iota of self-control I had, to resist the urge to return to the beacon of light in Beau's window.

Maybe, I forced myself to admit, Archie had been right. I could not fight this urge for much longer. The desire to return swelled, and the desire to locate Victor faded steadily. I had not had any leads in well over a number of weeks—I could have counted the days if I'd felt the need to, but I hadn't.

Time pressed on, an inexorable chamber of agony and affliction. I did not discover any more leads on Victor, not that I was trying very hard. I wandered without ambition, or a sat in a gloomy spot, arguing and pleading with myself to just _hang on_ … But onto what?

.

My cell phone, in my pocket, vibrated again. It was the twenty-fifth time in twenty-four hours. I thought about opening it, at least seeing who was trying to contact me. Perhaps it was important. Maybe Carine needed me.

I thought about it, but I did not move.

I wasn't precisely sure where I was. Some dark attic crawl space, full of rats and spiders. The spiders ignored me, and the rats gave me a wide berth. The air was thick with the heavy scents of cooking oil, rancid meat, human sweat, and the nearly solid layer of pollution that was actually visible in the humid air, like a black film over everything. Below me, four stories of a rickety ghetto tenement teemed with life. I didn't bother to separate the thoughts from the voices—they made a big, loud Portuguese clamor that I didn't listen to. I just let the sounds bounce off me. Meaningless. All of it was meaningless. My very existence was meaningless.

The whole world was meaningless.

My forehead pressed against my knees, and I wondered how much longer I would be able to stand this. Maybe it was hopeless. Maybe, if my attempt was doomed to failure anyway, I should stop torturing myself and just go back...

The idea was so powerful, so _healing_ —like the words contained a strong anesthetic, washing away the mountain of pain I was buried under—that it made me gasp, made me dizzy.

I could leave now, I could go back.

Beau's apparition, always with me, always by my side, smiled at me.

It was a smile of welcome, of forgiveness, but it did not have the affect my subconscious probably intended it to have.

Of course I could not go back. What was my pain, after all, in comparison to his happiness? He _should_ be able to smile, free from fear and danger. Free from a longing for a soulless future. He deserved better than that. He deserved better than me. When he left this world, he would go to a place that was forever barred to me, no matter how I conducted myself here.

The idea of that final separation was so much more intense than the pain I already had. My body trembled with it. When Beau went on to the place where he belonged and I never could, I would not linger here behind. There must be oblivion. There must be relief.

That was my hope, but there were no guarantees. Even when I was ash, would I somehow still feel the torture of his loss?

I shuddered again.

And I'd promised. I'd promised him that I wouldn't haunt his life again, bring my black demons into it. I wasn't going back on my word. Couldn't I do anything right by him? Anything at all?

The idea of returning to the cloudy little town that would always be my true home on this planet snaked through my thoughts again.

Just to check. Just to see that he's well and safe and happy. Not to interfere. He would never know I was there... I could be as discreet as a ghost, as temporary as a breeze passing through…

No.

The phone vibrated again.

I growled softly in frustration.

I could use the distraction, I supposed. I flipped the phone open and registered the numbers with the first shock I'd felt in half a year.

Why would Royal be calling me? He was the one person who was probably _enjoying_ my absence.

There must be something truly wrong if he needed to talk to me. Suddenly worried for my family, I hit the send button.

"What?" I asked tensely.

"Oh, wow. Don't act so happy to hear from me." As soon as I heard his tone, I knew my family was fine. He must just be bored.

It was hard to guess at his motives without his thoughts as a guide. Royal had never made much sense to me. His impulses were usually founded on the most convoluted kinds of logic.

I snapped the phone shut.

"Leave me alone," I whispered to nobody.

Of course the phone vibrated again at once.

Would he keep calling until he passed along whatever message he was planning to annoy me with? Probably. It would take months for him to grow tired of this game. I toyed with the idea of letting him hit redial for the next half year...and then sighed and answered the phone again.

"Spit it out, Royal, for God's sake."

Royal rushed through the words. "I thought you would want to know that Archie is in Forks."

I opened my eyes and stared at the rotten wooden beams three inches from my face.

"What?" My voice was flat, emotionless.

"You know how Archie is—thinks he knows everything. Just like you." Royal laughed humorlessly. His voice had a nervous edge, like he was suddenly unsure about what he was doing.

But my rage made it hard to care what Royal's problem was.

Archie had sworn to me that he would follow my lead in regards to Beau, though he did not agree with my decision. He'd promised that he would leave Beau alone for as long as I did. Clearly, he'd thought I would eventually fold to the pain. Maybe he was right about that.

But I hadn't. Yet. So what was he doing in Forks? I wanted to wring his scrawny neck. Not that Jessamine would let me get that close to him, once she caught a whiff of the fury blowing out of me...

"Edythe?"

I didn't answer. I pressed two fingertips into my temple, wondering if it were possible for a vampire to get a migraine.

On the other hand, if Archie had already gone back...

No. No. No. No.

I'd made a promise. Beau deserved a life. I'd made a promise. Beau deserved a life.

I repeated the words like a mantra, trying to clear my head of the seductive image of Beau's window, a beacon of brightness against the dark night. The doorway to my only sanctuary.

No doubt I would have to grovel, were I to return. I didn't mind that. I could happily spend the next decade on my knees if I were with him.

No, no, no. 

"Edythe? Don't you even care why Archie is there?"

"Not particularly."

Royal's voice turned a trifle smug now, pleased, no doubt, that he'd forced a response from me. "Well, he's not exactly breaking the rules. I mean, you only warned us to stay away from Beau, right? The rest of Forks doesn't matter."

I blinked my eyes slowly. Beau had left? My thoughts circled around the unexpected idea. He hadn't graduated yet, so he must have returned to his mother. That was good. He _should_ live in sunshine. It was good that he'd been able to put the shadows behind him.

I tried to swallow, and couldn't.

Royal chuckled lowly, apprehensive once more. "So you don't need to be angry with Archie."

"Then why did you call me, Royal, if not to get Archie in trouble? Why are you bothering me? Ugh!"

"Hold up!" he said, sensing, rightly, that I was about to hang up again. "That's not why I called." 

"Then why? Tell me quickly, and then _leave me alone_." 

"Well..." he hesitated. 

" _Tell me_ , Royal. You have ten seconds."

"I think you should come home," Royal said in a rush. "I'm tired of Earnest grieving and Carine never laughing. You should feel ashamed at what you've done to them. Eleanor misses you all the time and it's getting on my nerves. You have a family. Grow up and think about something besides yourself."

"Interesting advice, Royal. Let me tell you a little story about a pot and a kettle..."

"I _am_ thinking about them, unlike you. Don't you care how much you've hurt Earnest, if no one else? He loves you more than the rest of us, and you know that. Come home."

I didn't answer. 

"I thought once this whole Forks thing was finished, you would get over it."

"Forks was never the problem, Royal," I said, trying to be patient. What he'd said about Earnest and Carine had struck a chord. "Just because… Beau" —it was hard to say his name out loud— "has moved to Florida, it doesn't mean that I'm able... Look, Royal. I really am sorry, but, trust me, it wouldn't make anyone happier if I were there."

"Um..."

There it was, that nervous hesitation again.

"What is it that you're not telling me, Royal? Is Earnest all right? Is Carine—"

"They're fine. It's just...well, I didn't say that Beau _moved_."

I didn't speak. I ran over our conversation in my head. Yes, Royal _had_ said that Beau had moved. He'd said: ... _you only warned us to stay away from Beau, right? The rest of Forks doesn't matter._ And then: _I thought once this whole Forks thing was finished..._ So Beau wasn't in Forks. What did he mean, Beau hadn't moved?

Then Royal was rushing through his words again, saying them almost angrily this time.

"They didn't want to tell you, but I think that's stupid. The quicker you get over this, the sooner things can go back to normal. Why let you mope around the dark corners of the world when there's no need for it? You can come home now. We can be a family again. It's over."

My mind seemed to be broken. I couldn't make sense of his words. It was like there was something very, very obvious he was telling me, but I had no idea what it was. My brain played with the information, making strange patterns of it. Nonsensical.

"Edythe?" 

"I don't understand what you are saying, Royal."

A long pause, the length of a few human heartbeats.

"He's dead, Edythe."

A longer pause.

"I'm...sorry. You have a right to know, though, I think. Beau threw himself off a cliff two days ago. Archie saw it, but it was too late to do anything. I think he would have helped, though, broken his word, if there had been time. He went back to do what he could for Charlie. He thought it was only right, seeing as—"

The phone went dead. It took me a few seconds to realize that I'd shut the power off.

I sat in the dusty darkness for a long, frozen space. It was like time had ended. Like the universe had stopped.

Slowly, moving like an old woman, I turned my phone back on and dialed the one number I'd promise myself I would never call again.

If it was him, I would hang up. If it was Charlie, I'd get the information I needed through subterfuge. I'd prove Royal's sick little joke wrong, and then go back to my nothingness.

"Swan residence," answered a voice I'd never heard before. A woman's husky voice, rich, but still youthful.

I didn't pause to think about the implications of that.

"This is Dr. Carine Cullen," I said, perfectly imitating my mother's voice. "May I please speak to Charlie Swan?"

"He's not here," the voice responded, and I was dimly surprised by the anger in it. The words were almost a snarl. But that didn't matter.

"Well, where is he then?" I demanded, getting impatient.

There was a short pause, as if the stranger wanted to withhold the information from me.

"He's at the funeral," the girl finally answered. I shut the phone again.

.

 **A/N:** Bam. Boom. Done. Expect the next one soon, because I just have to proofread and edit it (I'm maybe like 3 chapters ahead, rough draft wise). See you next time, lovelies! Leave a review if you have a spare moment!


	11. Intercession

**A/N:** Hello, my lovelies. I'm just about to head out shopping for the day (My oldest daughter is a flower girl at my husband's best friend's wedding next weekend, and I still have to find her shoes and a jacket. Oops :x)

Anyway, thought I'd post this, as it's been sitting, finished, in my documents for a couple days already—it's a longer one, finally! Yay!

Gosh, guys, I know… I'm so all over the place with my upload schedule. I promise I'll try to work something more cohesive out for Eclipse and Breaking Dawn xD If you guys have any title ideas, please let me know! So far, the only idea for Eclipse I have is 'Glass Heart'—referring to the concept that Edythe's heart is very fragile between her fear for Beau's life, her competition with Julie, etc… Idk. If you guys have any other ideas for Eclipse or BD, I would LOVE to hear them!

I'll see you at the end!

.

Nothing. There was nothing now.

No beauty, no meaning, no color, no life.

I stared at the back of the wide, first-class seat in front of me unseeingly, not breathing. It no longer mattered that I was sitting too still, that my inhalations and exhalations were non-existent to anyone paying close enough attention. Nothing mattered at all, least of all the asinine human charade I no longer cared to play.

I felt inescapably, absolutely void. The emptiness would have been jarring, maybe even terrifying, if I'd had the wherewithal to feel the emotion behind it. But I felt nothing, now. Just the horrible, horrible emptiness—the loss of Beau; the loss of everything.

My fault. _My fault._

It was _my_ fault he was dead. It was _my_ fault he'd done the unspeakable, had taken his own, precious life from this world.

 _If only…_ What? If only I'd stayed? If I'd stayed, it was only a matter of time before he'd succumbed to death by my own actions. But I could see now, that there had to have been a way. I would do anything, anything at all, if I could have Beau back. I would go back to Forks, and I would never, ever leave him again.

It was clear now that my leaving had only hurt us, had only done more damage than good.

 _If only…_ I'd never returned after that first day, when I'd fled to Denali? I couldn't go back and change that now—and besides, did I want to? I didn't think I would have the strength to take back all the joy, the bliss, the love, the undeniable humanity that had taken root inside me the day I'd finally admitted to myself that I was in love with the vulnerable, blue-eyed boy.

Whose vulnerable, blue eyes I would never see again…

There was no resulting stab of pain in the face of this realization. There was nothing but nothing. Emptiness. Blackness. The hollow pang of a mourning bell. And more than that—the all-encompassing, visceral silence.

With the death of the only love I'd ever known, my apparitions had also died.

I was alone now—entirely, completely bereft.

My only solace now rested upon the hope that the Volturi would snuff my essence of being with the smallest of efforts.

I did not believe with enough strength in the concept of an afterlife. But I could only hope that, as I was torn to shreds and set aflame, that I would find some cessation to the agony and the hollowness.

Ashes to ashes, after all…

.

Volterra was still safely shrouded in darkness when I came upon it hours later.

The moonlight cast odd, bright shadows over the peaks of the castle walls. Overhead, the stars were bright and multitudinous, but I did not see their brilliance. The only brilliance I'd ever known in this life was extinguished, now.

As the expanse of rural terrain grew shorter between me and the city gates, I realized that I would have to go about this with some degree of delicateness.

It would be unwise to commit a crime that revealed me for what I was. All of the ways to do so would be easy—my speed, my strength, and not to mention the effect my skin would have in the sun.

I glanced skyward. Sunrise was still ages away, but I knew the coming day would be cloudless and bright.

Alas, I hoped those steps would not need to be taken.

I hoped Sulpicia, Athenodora and Marcus would agree to a conference between us, so that slandering action on my part could be avoided. If I pled my case, laid my heartbreak before them, would they take pity on me—divulge me this final favor?

They didn't seem so awful a reigning group not to do so. From Carine's stories, I knew them to be powerful, of course, but not altogether cruel.

It would be crucial to ensure that this in no way connected back to my family. I would abide by Sulpicia's rules and decorum so Carine was not held accountable for my actions, being my creator.

I wondered at their gifts. I knew the Volturi was more powerful a coven than I ever could have imagined. Carine had told me only that Sulpicia possessed a gift a little like my own, but on a more physical plane, and that it went a little deeper.

Regardless, whatever the remainder of their talents were, it made them infinitely more powerful than the rest of us, even those of us with gifts of our own. The numbers of their guard alone would overpower even our coven—which was considered quite large.

Knowing what I did of them, I knew their discovery of my familial ties was an eventuality, not a possibility. It would be important to put them in innocent light. Only _I_ would be punished in this instance. I owed my family, blameless as they were, as much. My mother… My father… My siblings.

They would be heartbroken over my loss, I was sure, but they would have each other to lean on. My cessation would be a sad event in their history, but they would move forward.

Would they be angry with me?

I knew my parents would only be heartbroken. I even thought maybe they'd understand in a partial way.

Archie, I knew, would be less understanding. When my vision-seeking brother came to mind, I pushed my legs faster, knowing my time was limited, knowing he would try to stop me.

Undoubtedly, he would see where I was, he would see my plan of action.

I flinched at the prospect of him watching my execution in acute detail, knowing how it would hurt him to lose his favorite sister and, arguably, best friend. He would know he would be too late, but he would try to save me anyway.

In fact, he was probably on his way to do just that, now. It wouldn't matter to him that he was possibly putting himself in harm's way, even in the way of his own execution, to risk saving my life.

I crossed, unseen at the speed I was going, through the gates of Volterra. The guards overhead did not witness my passage. Their thoughts remained monotonous and bored.

However, someone else did notice my approach.

 _Who's this? A visitor? Weathered and well traveled, I presume from her appearance ... Thirsty, as well,_ she thought, noting my eyes, _No doubt in search of a complementary meal..._

" _Bon giorno_ ," I greeted her as she emerged from the shadows. She was, of course, fair, but the dark color of her cloak made her appear even more-so. Against the white-blonde color of her long, plaited hair and the pallor of her skin, both her cloak and burgundy eyes were striking.

" _Bon giorno,_ " she returned, mildly surprised by my graciousness. _Such civility for a nomad,_ she thought. "Can I help you with something?"

As she spoke, I was aware of another presence over my shoulder—not because I heard the vampire's approach, but because I heard his thoughts.

 _What's this?_ he wondered.

"Yes, actually—if it isn't too much."

"Do you have business here?" the second vampire inquired, tall, dark haired and leanly built. He moved closer, to flank me on the other side. Both of their thoughts were cautious, prepared for any sudden movements on my part.

I turned my head to glance at the tall male vampire, fixing my eyes on his. "I wish to convene with Sulpicia."

The male grinned smugly.

"A little presumptuous, don't you think?" the female said, "Sulpicia is not one to take drop-in visits."

"I wonder if she'd make an exception for me." I could read in both of their minds that they were making this harder than it needed to be, and I was growing frustrated with their games. I did not have time for diversions and trickery.

The male snorted in disbelief. "An exception?" he repeated. "Have you met with the Volturi before?"

"No, but my creator spent quite a bit of time with them a few centuries back… They would most likely remember her—Carine Cullen?"

"Hm. And you are…?"

"I'm her daughter. My name is Edythe Cullen." My voice was sharp with impatience, and I felt my chin jut up just a tad in muted defiance.

The two exchanged surprised glances over my head. The use of surnames was not common in the vampire world, and apparently, there had been rumors of our family.

 _Cullen… Could it be?_ the female wondered, _The ones who hunt animals in lieu of human blood?_

 _The stories are true?_ the male thought with a hint of fascination.

"Perhaps Sulpicia _will_ make an exception for you," the female murmured, her narrowed eyes fixed on my face. "Follow me."

She turned, rounding a hidden bend in the wall. The male reached to prod me in the shoulder blade, but I had already hurried forward to follow the female.

We passed only one human sentry behind the wall, and then passed through a plain-looking door. The two vampires ushered me into an elevator, up to the second floor, where we emerged into an opulently furnished waiting room. I was immediately aware of the human receptionist behind the desk—no doubt an expenditure the Volturi took to keep their existence hidden from the general population. No doubt the man behind the desk would never return to the normal realm of human civilization.

I saw immediately in his thoughts that he hoped he would earn a spot in this powerful group.

"Buon giorno, Didymus," he greeted the fawn-haired female as we entered.

"Buon giorno, Giovanni," she returned, and I noted the unusual fervor of affection in her thoughts. In any other circumstance, I might have wondered if they were together. Now, I did not care to know.

"Wait here, please," Didymus said to me, and jerked her chin toward a grouping of over-stuffed loveseats and armchairs off to the side. "You are not to touch anything." _Especially him._ She glanced toward the man behind the counter, and then she and the unnamed male stepped through a door behind the receptionist.

I sat on the edge of the couch, my back ramrod straight, and listened very intently to the pair's journey down the hall. They did not speak, but paused at a pair of ornately carved doors and knocked.

" _Come in,"_ a light voice called, feminine and sweet.

Beyond the doors to the large room, I found the trio I'd been searching for. Their minds were easy to locate, as every other thought in the room revolved around them.

Sulpicia and Athenodora were engaged in quiet conversation—nothing of consequence from what I could assume—whereas Marcus lounged in his plush throne-chair off to the side, not really paying any mind to the current conversation.

Marcus's mind was dull and blurred, but I could see now the strange gift he possessed. It had never been revealed to Carine while she'd been in residence here, but I could see now, the oddity of it. Strange ribbons of light filled the room, seeming to connect one vampire to another, and another, some of them varying in color and intensity. I could only presume it had something to do with relationship, as the bonds between the elite and the three leaders were strongest. In fact, the flow of light around them was almost blinding.

" _Good evening, Didymus, Niccolo. What brings you in from patrol at this hour?"_ The woman, clad in a velvet brocade gown beneath her black cloak, stepped forward and held out her hand.

The two vampires did not answer. Instead, Didymus reached out to place her hand in Sulpicia's.

I gasped as her stolen gift was revealed to me. Not only could she read Didymus's mind by way of physical contact, but she could also read every memory, every thought, every recall she'd ever had. It was true—Sulpicia's gift went much, much deeper than my own.

I watched the conversation that had taken place between myself and the two patrolling vampires just moments earlier. After a moment, Sulpicia sighed, opening her eyes.

"I see," she murmured, her voice soft in a dreamy sort of way. The pitch of her tone was not high or falsetto, rather it was thick like honey, deceivingly sweet. "Well, let's bring our young friend in, then."

I stood when Didymus came to collect me, and followed her silently through the room and the door beyond. She led me down a long stone hallway and through the pair of lavish doors at the end of the hallway. Behind these doors was a wide room void of human comforts. The floors all sloped toward the middle, where a large metal grate was fixed.

High above us, small slits of moonlight broke through slivers of space in the stone walls.

Even if I could not read the intentions for this room in Didymus's thoughts, I would have known its purpose by the flagrant scent of death that saturated every stone.

This was where they brought the humans they intended to feed on. Half hidden behind a wall was a high-powered hose, undoubtedly used to clean up after mealtime.

We did not linger in this room. Instead, Didymus led me through a door hidden in the panels of the wall, and into another room, where Sulpicia, Athenedora, Marcus, and the unmistakable presence of their guard, was located.

Many of the occupants of the room ignored my presence, but Sulpicia's eyes fixed immediately on my face, and her cherry-colored lips spread into a wide grin.

"Welcome, welcome young _bellezza_! Didymus tells me you wished to speak with me." She strode forward confidently and enveloped me so suddenly in an embrace that I did not have time to react.

When she pulled back, she touched my cheek, smiling in an almost maternal way into my face. "A _Cullen_ , I hear. You know Carine Cullen?"

"She is my creator," I told her, seeing no profit in lying. If she read my thoughts, as I assumed she would, she would know soon enough.

"Ah," Sulpicia sighed, peaceful countenance passing over her face, "How is my wonderful friend these days?"

"She is well, I assume. I haven't spoken to her recently."

"Is she still intent on her diet of animal blood?" she questioned genially, though I could see in her mind that she registered the concept with a fair amount of disdain.

I nodded curtly. I hoped she did not intend to keep up this frivolous small talk. I was, of course, short on time.

Fascinated surprise, along with the tinge of awe, surfaced in Sulpicia's mind. "Ah," she said, "Three and a half centuries, and she has never fed on a human… How I strive to follow her genial, compassionate example…"

A low murmur spread throughout the room. Some of her companions agreed with her, others found the concept baffling.

"So." Sulpicia turned sharply back toward me, and clapped her small hands together once, the sound a sharp reverberation off the dark wood paneled walls around us. "What can I do for you this morning, Edythe Cullen?"

I steeled myself, a quiver snaking its way through my belly at the thought of their rejection. Would my affiliation with Sulpicia's old friend help me or hinder me here?

"I have a request to make."

But she shook her head quickly, fluttering her hands in a girlish, childish way. "Let's not worry ourselves with needless words, Edythe," she said, and held out her hand. "May I?"

I did not see the point in resisting her request, so I laid my hand atop of hers. As her other hand folded over top of mine, her clouded onyx eyes unfocused, staring blankly into my face. I watched, with some amount of difficulty, as my every thought, spoken word, and memory played out in her mind's perspective. Even I could not quite keep up.

Across her face, the various emotions coursed: Fascination, delight, confusion, pity.

"Ah," she finally said, releasing our point of contact, and her face was sad, "I see your trouble, my dear Edythe. Believe me when I say I am deeply sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," I could only mouth. There was no sound behind the words.

"You have seen very great joy and very great pain in an extremely brief amount of time," she observed.

So softly I barely heard them, two small vampires entered the room through a door behind the three regal thrones posed on the raised platform. Two small beings, barely more than children, entered the room holding hands. I recognized them immediately as two of the strongest in the Volturi's guard: Jonathan and Alexandra. Twins, brought into the coven when their unique and powerful gifts had been discovered a millennia ago.

Jonathan was able to inflict torturous pain on whomever he willed, just by means of a gaze. Alexandra, by contrast, was able to devoid her victims of perception completely, able to paralyze them completely. I didn't know which talent, objectively, posed more fear.

I waited for it—the fear. It was a very real possibility that both of their talents may be unleashed on me, but I felt nothing.

While I'd been watching the twins' entrance, Sulpicia had quietly drifted back toward her companions.

"I'm afraid, my dear Edythe," she was saying, "That we have a problem."

"A problem?"

"What a pleasure it's been to make your acquaintance," she explained, "You are quite talented, young one, are you not? And your brother, Archie, as well." She lingered on our gifts a moment longer, and I saw the intention behind them. "What a misfortune," she continued, "To have met such an individual soul, only to bid you a final farewell so soon. You, my dear _ragazza_ , are… Special."

"Oh, do indulge us, Sulpicia," Athenodora whined, her reedy voice high and wailing. She did not care to be left out of her sister's unspoken conversations.

"Dear sister," Sulpicia said, "Brother." She nodded at Marcus. "It seems our friend Edythe Cullen possesses quite the unique gift—an ability to read the minds of others without the benefit of physical contact."

Another low murmur sounded around the room.

Marcus, however, was not as patient with Sulpicia's stalling. "What is it she wants, Sulpicia? A place in the guard?"

"I'd be willing to offer if it were so," she replied, shaking her head as she turned sad eyes on me. "But no, my dear brother. That is not what our friend has come here to request."

Marcus tapped his toe impatiently. "What then?" he nearly snapped. He had long since grown bored of Sulpicia's childishness, her thrill, her easy distractibility.

"Oh, Edythe," Sulpicia said, "Isn't there any way we can change your mind?"

"I'm afraid not," I told her, and turned toward Marcus. "I'm here today to ask a favor—however ill-deserved. I wish to die."

Several minds in the room balked. Marcus's eyes widened.

He had never fully rectified the loss of his mate, lost long ago. But never once had it occurred to him to take such drastic measures in the face of his depression.

"You wish for… An execution?"

I did not allow my gaze to waver from his. "Yes."

There was silence for the briefest of moments, half a second.

"You see," Sulpicia interjected then, her bright tone jarringly controversial to the seriousness of the topic at hand, "Edythe has found herself in a very unusual situation, indeed." She templed her fingers together, a small smile gracing her plush lips. Excited thrill sparkled in her eyes. "Edythe has fallen for a human boy."

The buzzing whispers started anew, but Sulpicia held up a hand to halt their confused words.

"But there's more. This boy's blood called to her… A siren… _il suo cantante_ … And yet—she resisted. _More_ than resisted. She embraced him, loved him, committed herself to him… _Tasted_ him."

Several faces turned toward me, shock apparent in their minds, but I did not pay them any mind.

"And it seems…" she continued, sighing heavily, "That she's lost him to the frailty of a human existence, and now, burdened immensely with her grief, she wishes to join him in the afterlife."

 _What a waste,_ Marcus thought snidely.

 _Fine, then,_ Athenedora mused, _Let her die. I don't see why Sulpicia draws this out so needlessly. There are more pressing matters to attend to…_

"This is why you wish to cease?" Marcus asked me, his voice thick with mysticism.

"It is."

Sulpicia was quiet for a moment, her thoughts contemplative. They revolved strongly around Archie and myself, our talents, the possibilities they would gift her if we were part of her guard. When she lifted her head and found me watching her, she smiled sheepishly, aware she'd been caught.

"Edythe," she said, pacing slowly toward me. A man swathed in a cape just a few shades lighter than her own, clung to her cape, his mind totally fixated on Sulpicia, and Sulpicia alone. Her personal bodyguard, I assumed. "Tell me more about your brother. Archibald, is it?"

"Archie," I corrected her, in as level a tone as I could manage. Yes, she was interested in my gift and what it could do for her, but she'd never encountered a psychic in all her existence, and Archie's talent fascinated her. The selfish greed was apparent in her mind. "With all due respect, you've read in my mind all the knowledge I have on him."

I thought I saw her eyes narrow, just briefly. Disapproval flickered in her mind. She didn't like that I wasn't playing along with her game.

"He sees the future, does he not?"

"He does."

Again, the guard's interest swelled.

"Hmm… There is one thing I do not understand," she admitted. "Your brother has seen you and your deceased mate together in the future, has he not?" She didn't wait for my answer. "How can that be, if he's already been lost?"

"Archie's visions are not set in stone. They're based on decision-making. What he sees happening does not always come to fruition."

I noted, with a hint of alarm, the thoughts coursing through Athenodora's mind. She was concerned with the size Carine's coven had grown to, worried that the numbers would pose a threat.

Anxiety quaked, very faintly, in my core. _This isn't about them,_ I begged her silently, _They've done no wrong._

Sulpicia sighed. "Your request is… Unexpected, Edythe, and, in likeness, unprecedented. It is a large decision to make. Would you mind, very much, if I discussed my options with my companions?" She gestured toward Marcus and Athenodora.

"Of course." I bowed my head just slightly. "If it's not too much to ask, however, I _am_ a tad short on time. If you could come to your conclusions with as much haste as possible…"

Sulpicia giggled softly, a giddy sound. "Yes, yes," she said, "Of course. If you return after sunset, that would give us enough time, I think. Didymus?" She turned to the vampire who'd escorted me in. "Please escort Edythe to the city gates, and wait there with her for word. We'll send Fern for you when our decision has been made."

Didymus bowed her head. "Of course, Master."

Fern turned her attentions on me, and I noted the sudden strange focus of myself in her mind. It was as if she had me pegged on some other level, a footnote of some sort. I didn't pay this much mind, attributing it to her determination to please her Master.

She was tall and built sturdily, woven through with firm, prominent muscle. She would have reminded me of Eleanor if not for her stoic expression.

I left the room behind Didymus, and awaited my verdict.

.

 **A/N:** If you have a free minute, I'd love to know what you thought—and what you think of future titles! Love you all, and as always, I appreciate your support, reviews, patience and favorites/follows so much! See you next time!


	12. Fall from Heaven

**A/N:** So, in the last chapter, Sulpicia requested time to discuss her decision with her companions and asked Edythe to return after sunset. I totally meant to type sun _rise_. Oops. As long as that's all cleared up, I don't think we'll have any issues :)

Also, very sorry for such the long wait this time! I was super busy with the wedding, but now that our good friends are married, I SHOULD have plenty of time on my hands, right? But now my youngest has Croup, so I'm dealing with that… Ugh. I hate when my babies are sick!

.

The sky changed color—gradually, in waves. From navy blue to indigo, from mauve to lilac. It was beautiful—or, rather, it _should_ have been. But my eyes processed beauty no longer, they did not see the simple pleasures of nature now. I was blind, unseeing.

Just as the fingerlings of dawn reached for us out of the Eastern European sky, I heard Fern's mind flicker into range.

I found the timing ironic. Was Sulpicia humoring me, or perhaps mocking me with this—calling for us just as dawn approached?

"She's made her decision," I murmured to Didymus, who was still standing in the same position she'd assumed many hours before. The human façade was more deeply ingrained in me, I supposed, and so I rose from where I'd coiled myself on the ground, wiping the dust from my jeans. I glanced down quickly, checking my blush pink blouse for wrinkles, and smoothing any creases I saw.

I lifted weary eyes to Didymus's face, already aware of her doubts even before I saw the skeptical side-eye she was giving me. I might have felt a pang of annoyance at her non-belief, but my emotional reserve was empty.

Just then, Fern rounded the wall. "It's time," she reported, her voice low and steady, onyx eyes focused intently on my face. "Come with me."

We fell into step behind the tall, muscled vampire without a word.

The gathering room was significantly less-occupied than when I'd been here hours before. Only Sulpicia, Athenodora, Marcus and their personal guard remained. Counting Didymus, Fern and myself, there couldn't have been more than ten or twelve of us in the room.

"My dear Edythe!" Sulpicia delighted when I slipped into the room behind Fern, "Welcome back! I hope your wait was not too tedious?"

I did not answer, only leveled my gaze at her. I was aware of her theatrics, and I had no tolerance for them.

 _Such insolence from the child,_ Marcus thought in castigation when I made no reply.

But Sulpicia only smiled as my chin jutted a fraction, and she took wide, sweeping steps across the room. Her gown whispered along the stone floor like music. Music I would never play again, never hear again, never enjoy again…

"Of course you've only come back to us for one thing, but before we discuss such affairs, we would first like to extend an offer to you…"

Though she paused, as if for dramatic effect, I heard the thoughts flicker through her mind, and I clenched my jaw against the flurry of hateful words I wanted to fling at her. Surely, I would be punished for speaking them.

"I think I'll pass," I just barely managed not to hiss.

"Edythe," Sulpicia argued, her tone softly disapproving, "You must realize: An offer such as this one is not extended often. The last time—"

"No. Thank. You," I repeated, failing to disguise my disgust this time.

Marcus's eyes and thoughts alike flared when he witnessed my hostility. Sulpicia only smiled genially.

"You would make a wonderful addition to our guard, Edythe," she continued, "Your talents would be of great benefit to us." She pictured the way I would stand at her right hand, the highest of positions, in a cloak as dark as her own. In the image, our palms were pressed subtly together under her cloak, and I was feeding her every thought that filtered into my mind from the crowds around us. _And of course,_ she added, aware that I was listening, _I would gladly acquiesce to your… alternative diet._

I scoffed quietly, shaking my head slightly. "I have no desire to demote myself to that of a pet's status, Sulpicia."

Several hisses snaked through the room, and Jonathan stepped forward, his rage apparent. He would have liked to teach me a lesson in the way I was to treat his Mistress. He fixed his baleful, crimson gaze on me, fully prepared to unleash his torturous gift.

Sulpicia released the tiniest of sounds, like the twitter of a bird, and held up her thin, pale hand. "My dear," she said simply, and Jonathan stepped back into line. I couldn't help but smirk at him.

"Quite the leash she has on you." I could not resist, because it had been made clear to me now that Sulpicia had no intention of doing away with me. She had extended the only offer she was willing to see through, and she was unwilling to give me anything else.

Jonathan gritted his teeth, a low snarl issuing from between his lips. His body slumped forward, just marginally. I did not miss the way his eyes flickered very briefly to Fern, who stood still as a sentry over my shoulder. His sparring techniques were not as well-practiced as those of the rest of the guard—he so scarcely often had to rely on them—and he was counting on her to back him up.

Sulpicia, who was very obviously pretending to be unaware of the tension between us, stepped smoothly into Jonathan's line of sight.

"In that case," she said smoothly, her clouded gaze just slightly more cool now, "I regret to inform you that we have nothing more to say here, young Edythe. We've come to our conclusions, and we've decided your demise would benefit no one. A talent such as yours is too rare and inimitable to be wasted in such a foolish way, for such… menial reasons."

The snarl tore itself from between my teeth. How _dare_ they speak of Beau with such disgrace!

"If there is nothing more we can do for you—"

"Please don't act like you've done me any favors, Sulpicia," I spit acridly.

Sulpicia's smirk was not friendly. "Regardless," she murmured, "We'd appreciate if you were on your way."

I narrowed my eyes at her, and then turned sharply toward the door. Before I'd taken a full step, she called after me.

"Oh, and Edythe—please don't think so little of me that I would not surmise a strong estimation on what you plan to do now. And if you choose to rebel against us, your end _will_ be met—but it will not be pleasant. Please make yourself aware of that."

I did not say anything, only nodded curtly and strode from the gathering room without looking back. They would send someone to follow me, undoubtedly, to ensure my quiet departure from the city, but for now, I was on my own.

I walked aimlessly, without purpose, in the deepest shadows alongside the buildings. The sun was beginning to rise, and around the city, human minds were awakening to me. I did not pay them any mind.

So it would be this way, then.

Sulpicia would not give me what I wanted, and so I would have to do the unthinkable: I would have to go against their precedents. I would have to expose myself.

There was no subtle way to do this—especially if I wanted the death I so craved in the timing I needed it to happen. The less conspicuous options were snuffed in the prospect of my family's advent.

I found myself in the main plaza, and I curled myself into a ball in the deepest shadows underneath the clock tower. With all my might, I attempted to summon an image of Beau's face, his smile, his eyes, to recall the tenor of his voice, or the fragrance of his skin, his blood… But there was nothing, now. Nothing.

In the wide space in front of me, dominated by a large stone fountain, city workers prepared the plaza for today's festivities. Cleaning up garbage, stringing decorations.

I realized that today was St. Marcus's Day, and a sharp laugh escaped me, completely void of humor.

Sulpicia would be especially unhappy with me, exposing us for what we were on this monumental day.

I turned my mind from the feelings of others and focused on what would surely need to occur. Of course, any action broadcasting my superhuman strength would be sufficient enough—hoisting a car over my head, pummeling through the brick stone walls of the city. I could attack a member of the guard—though it would be difficult to draw them to a place where the humans would witness our scuffle.

Of course, I could go the theatrical route… At first, the idea was just a flicker in the back of my mind. But as I sat in the darkness, the idea grew in leaps and bounds. Yes, to expose myself in this way would undoubtedly draw the attention I needed. In the face of today's festivities, the Volturi would not hesitate to do away with me. How inappropriate it would be to hunt humans on the day they celebrated the supposed extinction of my kind…

Surely, it would not take them long to get to me… How many human lives would I have to do away with? I could not go about it in a subtle way, either. I would have to lengthen the process, be sure the humans comprehended what was taking place in front of them. Quick, painless deaths were not an option in this case. I would have to feed slowly, messily. I would have to spill the human blood I'd promised myself, eighty years ago, that I would never spill again.

I could not deny the glimmer of pleasure that accompanied the idea. I had been restraining myself for so long… And as I imagined the flavor of ecstasy on my tongue, I realized just how long it had been since I'd last fed. I saw my face, pale, drawn, bruised shadows beneath my fathomless, black eyes… Three weeks, at least, since my last hunt… And though I had been entirely unaware of the thirst up until now, it twisted my stomach with vengeance now.

There were options, in the open space of the plaza in front of me. One man was setting up his trolley just fifty yards from where I was hidden in the shadows. I focused on the rhythmic pulse of blood through his veins, his oblivious thoughts as he prepared for the festival.

I lifted myself to my feet, as if in some sort of daze, and floated toward the opening. I watched him for a minute or two, swallowing thickly against the desiccation in my throat. I had not fed in so long, there was not enough life source in my system to stimulate an adequate flow of venom.

The man turned halfway toward me, sorting through his cashbox, ensuring he had an adequate float for the day's occurrences. I shifted lazily, my foot dragging across the stone floor, and he stiffened, turning toward me.

Immediate fright flickered into his thoughts at the sight of my slight, drawn-looking frame. Confusion and fear battled in his mind. He didn't understand why he should be so afraid of the petite girl with murder in her eyes, hiding in the alleyway.

His heart rate sped, increasing the potency of his fragrance in the space between us. I readied myself to approach him, but there sounded a voice in my mind, as clear as day, as loud as echoing thunder—and yet, gentle. I could almost feel her hands on my arms…

 _I believe in you, Edythe… You've left this monstrous part of you behind. Don't do this._

I slipped back behind the brick wall of the alleyway, unseen in the shadows, reeling in the aftermath of my auditory hallucination. As I slumped against the wall and lowered myself to the dusty floor, I realized that of course Carine was right. I was no longer a monster. I had put that part of myself behind me forever—I'd promised myself, and I'd promised her.

Even in my final hours, I could not, would not, bring myself to commit such an atrocity.

I found my mind taking a new path as I sat in the cool of the shade, as the city awakened and brightened around me. What if, after all the time spent arguing and discussing, Carine was right? What if there _was_ an afterlife?

If there was even the slightest chance of accessing that paradise, of being with Beau once I'd left this dark, transient place, I wanted to be able to go there. I so desperately wanted to be deserving of such a small possibility.

I curled in on myself, struggling toward some kind of absolution. How would I meet my end, now? What other options were there?

I rocked myself, desperate for some kind of relief from the agony that scorched my skin, and turned my bones to cinders. What liberation it would bring if myth were true—if I could simply step into the sun and allow it to consume me?

It seemed just as appropriate as anything else—Beau had always been the sun my existence revolved around. If I could not be obliterated by it's wrath alone—at least I could allow it to act as my catalyst to the end.

Though I didn't need it, I struggled for breath through the unrelenting torture Beau's loss brought. I just needed it to end. The pain was too much, even for a seemingly indestructible immortal like myself.

"I'm sorry," I gasped through the pain, my voice muffled in my knees, "I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you… Please—forgive me."

But there was no answer—not even the apparition of one. There was only the resounding, hollow echo of lonely silence.

I lifted my stinging, dry eyes to gaze across the vacant square. Below me, I could feel the vibration of each tick of the plaza's clock—bringing me closer and closer to my ending. In a window across the way, I found the exact time on the face of the clock. Noon seemed an appropriate enough time. The sun would be at its highest point in the sky, and the square would be full of occupants by then—bearing plenty witness to the despicable nature of my inhuman beauty.

It would only be a matter of minutes before the fire and ash came. And then it would be over.

.

The plaza slowly filled, and before long, the sounds of traffic climbing the steep hill into the city entered my ears. I paid the thought patterns of the approaching patrons no mind. I had enough company to last me till the end anyway—the shame, the loneliness, the guilt, the crushing despair and grief.

I watched the square fill with people dressed in red, their shouts and calls of joy entirely unreachable to me. I did not know what joy was anymore. It was entirely lost to me, a foreign concept now.

As I dabbled and waited, counting down my final minutes of existence, I wondered which thoughts had run through Beau's head in his final minutes before he'd jumped to his own death. Had he cursed me for leaving him? Or had he embraced my memory as I embraced what I could of his, now?

There was just two minutes left now until the clock struck twelve. I rose to my feet and strode to the entrance, standing on the cusp of the concealing shadow. A small family gathered a few feet from my opening would be the first to witness my blatant show of otherness.

A mother, a father, two children—perfectly balanced. I thought of my family for a very brief moment. Surely they would be complete without me. They would be even in numbers now, and though they would grieve my abrupt cessation, they would go on together in perfect balance.

I whispered quiet apologies to my family—my siblings, my parents.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to Archie, who would unwillingly be privy to the violence of my end.

"I'm sorry," I murmured to my mother, the woman whose face I'd woken to, the woman who'd taught me what it meant to attempt to redeem oneself, to find some sort of good in the darkness.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to my father, who had found family again—first in Carine and myself, and then as more of my siblings were added into the mix.

They would forgive me. They would have to, wouldn't they? Besides, they wouldn't be hurt, and that was the most I could ever ask for. Only I would suffer for my choices, now.

I unbuttoned and peeled off my outer layer. Underneath, I wore a simple tank top, which matched the color of my blouse. It would be enough—to have my shoulders, neck, arms exposed. The sun was bright enough to refract brightly off my exposed skin.

I heard my thin top flutter to the cobblestones at my feet as the first chime rang out. It would take all of two steps to reach the sunlight, and I could only hope it wouldn't be long after that when I was obliterated.

As I took the first, small step forward, I closed my eyes, trying harder now to summon an image of Beau's face, the sound of his voice, anything… Around me, the wind kicked up, fluttering my free-falling hair over my bare shoulders. With it, came the familiar scent of timber, pine and mint… And for a moment, I allowed myself to imagine that he was here with me, in these final moments… That his heartbeat and breathing could be heard in the copious crowds around me…

 _"I'm right here…"_ The sound of his voice—it had been absent from my mind for so long—and though I knew it was just an apparition, it brought a smile to my lips. If the impossible was true, in a few moments, it would no longer just be my imagination… We would be together for real.

 _"Edythe!"_ he called again, and his voice sounded impatient… Which amused me. Of course, he would be impatient for us to be together again.

The wind whipped around me, and as it whirled, the timber-pine-mint fragrance intensified, setting my throat on fire. Such a familiar fragrance, it was impossible. Could my mind be conjuring it, just for these final moments? And to convey as so intense, as the times when Beau had been walking in the rain…

I prepared to take my final step, to put myself in the path of the sun's destruction, taking in a final breath, holding the scent I so wished could be his, in my lungs.

I listened, waiting for his beautiful voice to pull me into oblivion…

There were no words—but the rasping breath, the pounding heartbeats, the slap of shoes against stone, I imagined it could be him, coming to meet me…

I began to complete the step that would trigger my end.

Warmth enveloped me. Not only my skin and face, but whistling down my airways, setting my throat on fire. The blistering heat swirled in my belly, scorched my bones and insides—but it was a healing fire, a fire that burned away all the pain, all the regret, all the nastiness—and it left me clean and reprieved.

As the chime of the bell sounded again, I opened my eyes to find Beau's lovely visage staring down at me. Finding him there in front of me, his arms tight around me, and mine automatically around him, I found myself stunned, and at a total loss for words.

I was shocked, and very pleased with how quick the Volturi's actions had been.

But more than that, I was intensely surprised to find that I had been _wrong_. Somehow, someway, there _was_ an afterlife for me. Because against all odds, I was standing in the sunlight with Beau. We were bathed in its heavenly glow, wrapped in its peaceful embrace.

 _Strange_ , I thought, _To hear the pounding of his heart so clearly in the air. To feel every pulse of it vibrate against my skin…_

Nevertheless, I could not deny the sight in front of me. The surrealism of Beau, bathed in the white bath of the sun, his dark hair catching the light, the unearthly beauty of his eyes, gazing fiercely down at me. He was beautiful, just as lovely as I remembered him being.

It was so strange—because, though I could have sworn he was an angel, and I'd somehow ended up in the same paradise as he had—there was anxiety on his face. Shouldn't he be at peace, now, in the afterlife?

"Incredible," I heard myself breathe, and lifted my hands to touch his troubled expression, "Carine was right." I was in absolute shock—somehow, I'd managed to convey myself in a way that allowed me to be with Beau in the afterlife. Forever together—never separated by something so trivial as death now. It was euphoria.

It seemed silly now—all the hardship, the heartbreak. The guilt, the shame, the loneliness, the depression, and the awful emptiness—all of it vanished in an instant.

I was undeniably whole—more vitalized than I had ever felt, dead or alive. Every cell in my body sang with our reunion.

So why did he look so troubled?

His lips moved around the shape of my name, and I smiled tenderly at him, drinking in his perfection, which had not faded one bit.

"I can't believe how quick it was," I confided, "I didn't feel a thing—they're very good."

I moved to slide my arms around his waist—still incredibly warm against my skin, and damp for some unforeseen reason. That was strange, too.

I rested my cheek against his chest, where his heart still seemed to pound—how odd. Did we take the form of our bodily selves to the afterlife with us? Was this why I could still hear his heartbeat, why I could still feel the burn of his blood's fragrance in my throat?

I inhaled deeply, surprised at the strength of the agony that swirled down my airways. Just as always, his scent set me on fire—but I was glad to know that there was no residual hunting instinct inside me now, here in heaven. I could not bring myself to imagine harming him—possibly because his mortality was no longer an obstacle.

"You smell just the same as always," I murmured into the light-colored cotton of his t-shirt. "Oh well. Maybe this _is_ hell. Eternally damned to forever burn in your scent…" I took another breath. "It's a perfectly acceptable exchange to me."

"Edythe! Hey!" he shouted, his voice urgent and panicked. His heart still flew. "I'm not dead! Neither of us are! You need to move—you need to get back in the shadows before they come! They're probably close!" He shifted against me, as if trying to move me from where I stood, and the concern in his eyes flared.

I felt suddenly very confused, distracted by his strangely urgent words.

"I'm sorry?"

 _Well, well—what's this! A fine looking specimen indeed. And… Mmm… What an aroma!_

Fern's thoughts, though I'd only known her for a matter of hours, sounded clearly inside my head. What was _she_ doing here?

"We're not dead yet!" Beau cried sharply, pushing hard against my shoulders, "But if you don't move _now_ —"

Heaven crashed down around me in the face of my sudden understanding. The fall from euphoria was disorienting.

Beau was _alive_! His touch, his scent, the sound of his heart, pounding like a freight train against my breast… All of it—real!

For a fraction of a second I drowned in the waves of blissful relief. Despite every possibility, it was true. He'd somehow survived his suicide attempt, and I knew Archie had brought him all this way to stop me from my own suicide attempt.

 _Oh._

I felt suddenly and completely deflated. There was no air in my lungs.

Yes, he had found me. Yes, he had saved me. But in doing so, he'd risked his life in the worst possible way—because of me, _again_ , he was in more danger than he'd ever been in his life.

"Is she in the light?" a ghostly voice whispered to another, "Has anyone seen her?" _Wait—who is the boy?_

In an unthinking motion—but aware of his ever-present-fragility—I whirled the both of us into the shadows until his back was pressed against the stone wall. I took a defensive stance in front of the only thing that ever had and ever would matter to me. A low, warning growl slid through my teeth.

In this moment, we were both in grave danger, but I'd be damned if either one of these vampires touched Beau. They would have to go through me first. They would have to _kill_ me.

Fern and Didymus stepped to the edge of the deep shadows, and regarded my defensive crouch.

 _Protective of a human?_ Fern mused, _Pah!_

 _She looks ready for a fight,_ Didymus noted with a degree of caution—only for the possibility of the fight drawing notice from the nearby humans. She did not see me as a direct threat. Which was her first mistake…

I struggled to control myself, to reign in my visceral instincts. It was true, there was a possibility I could come out on top of a fight with the two vampires in front of me. But the rest of the guard… I would undoubtedly suffer for my mistake. And as a result, so would Beau.

For the first time in my life, I felt a victim. Should I stand and fight, or should I run? I was trapped by the jailing bars of the sun—but Beau was not.

I forced myself to straighten into a more amicable posture, to relax the grimace on my face. If there was any chance at all that they would let Beau go, it would not be in the face of my animosity.

"Good afternoon, ladies," I greeted them, "It just so happens I won't be requiring your assistance after all. Please, send my regards—as well as my sincerest apologies for the inconvenience—to your Mistress."

"I don't think so," Fern hissed. "You're coming with us."

"I'm sorry," I said, the false hint of sincerity in my tone evident, "I don't believe I've broken any rules today."

"In fact, harboring a human is quite a spectacular breech, isn't it?" _Let's see what Sulpicia thinks about that,_ she added smugly in thought, grinning cockily at me.

 _Oh, knock it off, Fern,_ Didymus thought in exasperation, _If you continue to rile her so, we'll all be exposed._ "Fern merely meant to bring to attention the proximity of the sun," she soothed aloud, "Why don't we take this conversation to a more secluded venue?" _We mean you no harm, Edythe. Sulpicia only wishes to speak with you._

"Fine," I said shortly. I could see there would be no escaping this, especially if I wanted to keep Beau out of harm's way. "If Sulpicia wishes only to speak with me, I'll be along shortly. Beau?" I turned halfway toward him, careful to keep both Fern and Didymus in my field of vision, "Why don't you go back out to the square and enjoy the festival? I'll be along in a bit."

I felt Beau's hand tighten around my hip in protest, but before I could insist, Fern spoke.

"I don't think so," she hissed, remembering Sulpicia's other request— _If others shall gather, bring them to me._ "You're well aware of the orders we've been given, _mind reader_ "—she spit the title at me as if it were a curse—"The boy is to be taken to Sulpicia. You would do well to obey her requests—after all, the most vital injunction has indeed been broken." _It is obvious he is well-aware of what you are. And yet… There he clings to you, with blood still pumping through his mortal veins._

Wordlessly she noted how sweet he smelled, imagined what it would be like to taste him. She licked her lips metaphorically, in a solicitous way, and I hissed sharply.

"No harm will come to you, if you only obey our requests," Didymus tried to assure me.

I turned my baleful glare on her. "And what about Beau? Can you guarantee his safety?"

"Nothing is guaranteed for rule breakers," Didymus murmured, her voice like silk.

"Especially the rule breakers who pose a threat to the greater kind," Fern added acridly, "You are a dangerous creature, young Edythe Cullen. You are already in hot water, and it would serve you well not to make your situation any worse." _A thoughtless fool,_ she added in her thoughts, _Driven by nothing more than greed and desire. If I were the one making the decision, your sentence would be death—and for your human pet, too._

She pictured it in her mind, the way her teeth would sink smoothly through the thin membrane of Beau's jugular, the heat of his skin against her lips.

Red heat obscured my vision for half a second, and I could not beat back the sound like swarming bees that buzzed up the back of my throat.

"Then I'm afraid I won't be able to acquiesce to your request, after all," I said through locked teeth.

Didymus's gaze flashed nervously toward the mouth of the alleyway.

"Fine, then," Fern purred, "Have it your way." She leaned forward, eyes glinting with the thrill of a coming fight. _It's been so long…_ she enthused. _First you, then him._

"Sulpicia will not be pleased…" Didymus worried.

Neither Fern nor I answered her. Our eyes were locked, teeth bared against each other. I crouched lower as Fern prepared to spring.

I was certain I would be able to hold Fern off long enough so that Beau could make it safely into the sunlight. They would not go after him once he was in its light. But Didymus and Fern drifted smoothly apart, effectively blocking us into the tunnel, so as not to draw attention from the crowds.

It came to my attention that we had witnesses. A small boy was staring in our direction, tugging on his mother's coat.

That avenue effectively stolen from me, I glanced upwards, judging the distance I would have to leap with Beau to reach the rooftops. I scanned the second-stories for any conscious thoughts.

Fern caught the direction of my gaze.

 _You'll never make it,_ she thought, her grin more snarl than smile. _The boy's weight will slow you down._

Beau's other hand came up to cup my shoulder. I could feel it tremble against my skin. His heart rate and breathing sped, but there was nothing I could do to ease his anxiety now.

We were out of options.

.

 **A/N:** I didn't know how to split these few chapters up, so I hope I'm doing an okay job! Originally I was going to cut it off earlier—at the moment Beau made contact with Edythe. But I felt that wasn't fair to you guys, you've waited so long for this one ;)

Please let me know your thoughts and opinions on this one! I look forward to hearing from you, and I'll see you all next time! xo


	13. Confrontation

**A/N:** A lonnnggg one for you guys, this time :) And shorter on the update time, I know!

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Just then, a familiar mental presence made itself known.

 _Don't provoke them, Edythe!_

His light footsteps grew closer, and reflexively, I glanced into the shadows where he emerged from—completely casual, hands tucked firmly in his pockets.

"Please, ladies," he said as he strode lightly to my side, "Let's show _some_ class."

Deep relief lifted a great burden from my shoulders. With Archie at my side, the guards would not attempt a fight. They were more than evenly matched in a would-be duel, and they were well aware of this.

 _Damn,_ Fern thought, _A mind reader and a psychic…_

Tracking was not of much use in a fight, and the tall vampire was aware of this.

Momentarily, I was distracted by the barrage of images flashing through Archie's mind. Most of them were indistinct and blurry, but one thing was certain: If I were to engage the two sentries in a fight, Beau was sure to wind up mangled, broken and bloodied on the stone floor.

Another image—its clarity jarring—flitted through his mind. Jessamine's face, grief-stricken and drawn, shoulders hunched as she sobbed dryly beneath Earnest's arm.

Archie quickly pushed the image aside, and I was reminded of the risk he'd taken to come here.

Guilt filled the empty cavity of my body. How many people had I harmed in my selfish quest to get my way? How many people had I damaged, irreparably?

A flash of Beau surrounded by the throngs of festival-goers, clad in red, distracted me, and Archie clung to this one possibility. The vision seemed to become more solid in the face of the small family's attention. The man was flagging down a staff member, concern apparent in his mind. He suspected some kind of fight was stirring in the alleyway.

 _It's possible,_ Archie said in response to the blooming prospect. If we drew enough attention, Fern and Didymus would have no choice but to let Beau go.

But as quickly as the option presented itself, it was quickly snuffed. Another vampire had made a decision that had pulled this prospect off the table.

 _No!_

I cursed the faceless demon who had extinguished Beau's only hope of escape.

"Please," Didymus beseeched softly, unaware that the prospect had been vanquished. She only saw the ballooning human attention. "Let's not be dramatic, Edythe. Sulpicia only wishes to speak with you, and the boy. She means you no harm." Her thoughts were pregnant with anxiety—they would have no choice but to flee in the face of human involvement, and Sulpicia was not known for her leniency with failed guards.

"Come with us, Edythe, and there will be no consequence."

"Fine," I said shortly, "I'll come with you—but the boy stays here."

Fern's teeth gritted together. "Those were not our orders," she reiterated. "I'm afraid we cannot acquiesce to your request."

"Then _I'm_ afraid I won't be coming with you, Fern."

She huffed an exaggerated sigh of annoyance. _Fine then. It seems you_ are _looking for a fight after all._

"If you insist." Subtly, I curled my body forward. Beau's hands stayed firmly in place, unwilling to let me go.

The crowd of four family members and one guard had inflated to ten altogether. The prospect of Beau's safety was closer than ever in the face of their attentiveness—but then…

 _How many does it take to reign in one rogue vampire?_ the disembodied, child-like voice wondered in vexation. I knew immediately who it was.

"No," I hissed, knowing it was too late then. Our plan was foiled.

Fern smirked, hearing the child's approach.

 _Well, well,_ Jonathan thought as he rounded the corner and saw us, _Quite the little party we have gathered here today._

"That's enough," he said, his androgynous voice none-too threatening and entirely disinterested. But I knew otherwise. He lifted his crimson eyes to my face, just barely arching a delicate, feathered brow. _Make one wrong move, girl,_ he challenged.

Didymus and Fern stepped back into the shadows, comfortable now to relax their offensive positions.

I felt my shoulders sag in defeat. "Jonathan," I murmured in surrender.

Archie was confused by my sudden diffusion, until he realized that any way he looked at a confrontation with Jonathan, one of us would end up writhing in agony on the floor, the other engaged with one of the other guards, and Beau left completely defenseless, and at the mercy of the other.

Subtly, Archie brought his hands out of his pockets to fold his arms across his chest. Though his expression remained cheerful and untroubled, his thoughts were immediately guarded. He witnessed my immediate submission in the face of the small boy's appearance, and he wondered what Jonathan had done to earn such power over me.

 _Did he hurt you?_ he wondered.

 _No,_ I thought to myself, _But he won't hesitate to do so._

"Come with me," Jonathan ordered, his voice flat and without inflection. He turned back toward the tunnels, not bothering to glance over his shoulder to ensure we would follow. He was confident there would be no more refusal. And there wouldn't be—at least not on my part. And if Archie knew what was good for him, he would not cross Jonathan either.

Fern gestured for us to follow Jonathan, and Archie stepped forward immediately. I eased an arm around Beau's back and drew him forward, hating myself for the execution I was surely leading him to.

I was trapped by the impossibility of our situation. Though the former belief that I'd killed him had been extinguished, it would be true now. Though his blood's fragrance seared my throat, no hunting instinct remained. The thought of sinking my teeth into his skin caused me physical pain, twisting my stomach to the equivalent of human nausea. Regardless of the blissful liberation from my hunting nature toward Beau, I would be the reason for his death now. And not only would I be the source of its doing, I would witness his final breath this time. The poignancy of my self-loathing had never been more prominent than it was in this moment.

I grappled for a way to distract myself from the anger that had me seeing red. No amicable agreement would be reached in the face of my fury.

"Well, Archie," I murmured, "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see you here." This was also my only chance to figure out what had happened—what blasphemous mistake had occurred to bring us to this point?

"My mistake," Archie gaily replied as we strode forward through the dank tunnel, "I had to do something to try and fix the chaos." _Speaking of chaos,_ he added, _You look terrible. When was the last time you ate? Mom and Dad won't be happy to see you so miserable looking._

I ignored his assumption that we would see our family again. "What happened, precisely?" I asked, exerting every effort to keep my tone casual and non-interested. I was aware we had listening ears.

"Oh, you know, long story," Archie murmured, and showed me the image he'd seen of Beau, standing above the craggy cliff-face, hurricane-sized storm swirling overhead. His eyes had been closed, a disturbing sort of peaceful smile on his lips. When he jumped, his scream had not been one of terror, but of joy.

He sliced through the choppy grey waters with barely a splash, the vision abruptly blacking out before he surfaced.

"He absolutely jumped," Archie continued, "But he wasn't attempting suicide. Apparently, my man is all about those extreme sports these days."

 _Which is total idiocy,_ he added disapprovingly, _Adrenaline-seeking sports are just another alias for suicidal tendencies when it comes to Beau, if you ask me._

I wasn't. There was only one question in my mind: _How did Beau survive?_ As if Archie had suddenly developed an uncanny ability to read my thoughts, he went on.

 _Apparently, the werewolf gene is not dead. Julie Black saved him._

He showed me a glimpse of a confrontation the trio had had in Beau's tiny kitchen. Julie's spasming, vibrating arms… The heat rolling off of her… The noxious, nauseating smell of her skin…

The girl had come within inches of phasing—and right next to Beau.

I felt my face pinch in fury, and my free hand fisted into a tight ball. Again, I struggled to see through the crimson haze my vision had adopted.

It wasn't enough to have believed that Beau was dead—but to have that be a lie, and then to know he'd spent the last few months in the face of total danger, keeping much too close company with a pack of _werewolves…_

 _Like you always used to say,_ Archie thought, _He doesn't just attract danger, he seduces it…_ He ran through the last few days he'd spent by Beau's side, using their conversations to speak the update he apparently couldn't find the words to do so, himself.

Not only had he summoned the entire resurrection of an extinct species, but there was _more_ …

" _Look,"_ Beau had said to him in his tiny, darkened living room, _"I probably wouldn't be around if it wasn't for Jules and her friends. If it weren't for the werewolves, Victor would have found me by now—that, or Lauren, who kinda stumbled across me before he could… The wolves killed her, but I think Victor has some kind of revenge plan for me or something…"_

I felt my jaw clench, my teeth grinding together audibly. For all my unerring efforts, Victor had evaded me! He'd led me on a wild goose chase all the way to Southern Brazil, only to have been in Forks—possibly the entire time!

Only Beau's warm, soothing touch prevented me from the screaming flurry of rage that would have liked to explode from my chest.

I was so _asinine!_ I'd thought I'd almost had him!

 _Edythe?_

It was all I could do just to keep on walking, and not collapse underneath the weight of my crushing stupidity. All my purpose in the time I'd been gone—lost. All the notion that I'd been doing something purposeful, _protecting_ Beau, when all the while, he was in just as much danger as he'd always been— _more_ , even!

 _Edythe, are you okay?_

"Hm," I managed to squeak, though my throat was constricted with rage and self-flagellation.

We followed Jonathan through a side alley that forked off the main tunnel. It took us around a subtle curve, and then we were met with a solid brick wall. In front of us, a large grate was anchored in the brick pathway, it's top halfway removed. I heard Jonathan's small feet make nearly soundless contact with the stone below.

Carine had told me about the underground tunnels of Volterra, which allowed the Volturi to access the castle discreetly and quickly.

 _I'll go first and catch him,_ Archie offered as he strode forward and dropped through the opening without hesitation. He knew I would by no means leave Beau's side when the threat—at present—was behind us.

As Archie landed below, Beau's breathing accelerated to a panicked rate, and I felt the adrenaline spike the temperature of his blood, hammering it faster through his veins. I took one of his clammy hands and squeezed it reassuringly.

Leading him into the lion's den was the last thing I wanted to do in this moment, but we had no other choice.

"Not to worry," I attempted to soothe him, "Archie is waiting for you—he'll break your fall."

"I'm not worried," Beau replied, but his tight voice belied his true fear. He inched toward the hole which must have looked as black as night to him, and peered over the edge. "Archie?" he called.

"Right here, Beau," Archie responded easily, "Ready when you are."

Beau attempted to steady his breathing as he crouched down and swung his long legs into the hole—his pants were soaked to the knee. He hesitated once more, and Fern huffed impatiently behind me. I knelt down beside him and took his wrists in my hands, lowering him into the hole so his delicate body would not bash against the sides when he fell.

His pulse hammered chaotically against the soft, inside part of his wrists. He was terrified, and I hated to do this to him, but I lowered him as far as I could.

"Ready?" I asked them both.

"Drop 'im!" Archie called, and Beau didn't answer. I examined his fear-stricken face for just a moment, his eyes and lips squeezed tight. When I released my grip on him, his breath stopped completely, only to burst from his lungs when Archie grasped him out of the air.

The moment Archie tipped Beau onto the stone ground, I leaped lightly to his side. The others weren't far behind us, and I wove my fingers through Beau's, tugging him forward again.

Even the brief half-second of separation had been far too painful. I wasn't willing to let any space come between us now.

Beau's heart continued to pound savagely, the smell of fear in his perspiration heavy in the air. Fern inhaled it greedily, with full anticipation. I clutched Beau closer, reveling in his warmth, his closeness, the feel of his arm around my waist, the rhythm of his breathing, warming my hair, and the lovely scent of his skin.

As best I could, I blocked out the thoughts of everyone around me and focused on what little reunion we had. Even if he could forgive me for all the torture I'd put him through, we didn't have long to be together now.

I traced the bones in his hand, the shape of his lips, his jaw, pressed my cheek to his chest to drink in what remaining pulses of his heart we had left.

 _I'm so sorry,_ I wanted to whisper to him, but we had no privacy, _I love you. I'm so sorry I've brought you here. How much pain I've caused you…_

Behind us, Fern sighed impatiently. _Can't he move any faster? Couldn't she just pick him up and carry him? He's so_ slow _!_

I bit back the snarl at her impatient thoughts, and pressed myself closer to Beau's trembling form. I was in no rush to hurry our execution.

As we continued forward, Beau's teeth began to chatter. But when I moved to pull away from him, as to ensure he retained as much as his body heat as possible, he only clung to my waist, his fingers twisting in the cotton of my top.

It shouldn't have brought me joy, to see him react this way. It shouldn't have made me smile. But it did.

Was it possible that he still loved me—that he forgave me? I wanted so much to ask, but part of me was terrified to hear the answer.

I rubbed my hand against his bare arm, hoping to create some artificial heat through the friction. Fortunately, ahead of us, I could feel heat from the human reception room radiating into the tunnel. No doubt it would be one of the only heated rooms in the castle.

We came to a massive grate at the end of the tunnel, rusting and ancient. The door, made of interwoven metal bars, stood open in the middle. We stepped through, into a larger room, brightly lit.

Behind us, Fern slammed the grille shut, snapping the titanium padlock into place. If we were somehow able to escape, the barricade would not be enough to stop us, but it would be enough to slow us down, and we would surely be caught.

At the other end of the room, the thick wooden door that led to the more upgraded part of the castle stood open as well. It, too, would be shut and locked behind us.

As we stepped through, Beau's echoing steps on the stone relaxed into a familiar trod on grey, industrial carpet. The light colored walls refracted the artificial heating system, and I felt Beau relax slightly in the heat and light.

However, upon hearing Sulpicia's glee and excitement, I stiffened.

 _Welcome back, Edythe Cullen. I've been expecting your return._

Jonathan waited impatiently for us at the end of the hall, holding a non-descript elevator door open. The last thing I wanted to do was enclose Beau in a tiny space with a group of bloodthirsty vampires, but I did not have a choice. So I pulled him forward, through the metal sliding doors, and discreetly shifted him into the corner, where I could stand between him and the rest of the Volturi.

Of course, his scent was amplified in the enclosed space, and this did not go unnoticed. Fern took a breath of appreciation for his fragrance, her impatience for mealtime growing. I bared my teeth at her broad, turned back.

Though Jonathan's expression remained impassive and bored looking, I didn't dare let the tiny boy out of my sight. His thoughts remained vigilant as a sentry's—prepared to unleash his horrible, torturous talent on any of us the moment he saw fit. I was entirely unwilling to allow him anywhere close to Beau. I'd seen in his thoughts just how extensive his abilities were. His power had the capacity to render a human entirely senseless, often triggering a stroke or a heart attack due to the amount of pain inflicted.

Mercifully, the elevator ride was short, and we were disembarking into the extravagant reception room. Beau took in the lavishly furnished waiting area—it's opulent couches and lamps, and the many bouquets of flowers. His nostrils flared as he took in their scent.

And then his eyes turned wide and aghast as he took in the man standing behind the counter. Of course, something so obvious wouldn't slip by Beau. He must have realized he was human, as well.

"Good afternoon, Jonathan," the secretary greeted the small vampire as we crossed the room toward him. He spoke out of high respect and more than a little fear. He was aware of Jonathan's terrifying talents, and was vigilant on never being on the receiving end of it.

Jonathan regarded the human man with as much interest as he would a pile of junk mail. "Giovanni," he replied without inflection. He didn't even look his way as he past through the set of double doors at the back of the room—the set of double doors I'd already been through twice. Would we ever exit them again?

Beyond the doors, Alexandra was waiting. When she greeted her brother, Jonathan finally showed a modicum of affect, reaching out to hug his sister and kiss her cheek.

"They send you out for one, and you return with two… and a half." She quirked a dismissive eyebrow in Beau's direction. "Well done."

Jonathan smirked smugly. He was aware that his job had been done thoroughly and quickly, and he liked the extra attention.

"Ah, Edythe," Alexandra continued, turning her wide, whimsical gaze on me, "You've returned—and in a much better mood, I see." She compared the two images of my face, side by side, in her mind. From despondent and despairing before, to incensed and indomitable now.

"Barely," I replied flatly.

Her uninterested gaze slid to Beau's face, and she looked him up and down, deciding, succinctly, that she saw nothing of real interest in his features. _All this trouble for one measly human boy?_ she wondered in disdain.

I only leveled my gaze at her expressionless face.

Behind me, Fern's thoughts again took on a lewd, solicitous method—imagining not only how the elixir of Beau's blood would taste, but other things she had in mind before doing away with him.

 _Those arms,_ she thought, _That chest… Mm, those eyes—full of fright, and fascination, and wonder…_

Her thoughts only became more inappropriate, and I could not bite back the incoherent snarl of fury that escaped me as I whirled on her.

Fern only smirked, curling her fingers twice in invitation. _He'll watch while I finish you off, and then it will be his turn…_

Archie's hand clamped around my wrist, halting my actions. _Your reactions will get you nowhere. She doesn't mean any of it. The possibilities are clearing up, but you_ need _to stay calm._ He added his voice for measure: "Patience." _Please, Edy._

His ochre eyes burned into mine as he stared down at me, showing me the many more outcomes that had opened up between our face-off in the alleyway and where we stood now. Among the many different ways I could get us killed and incinerated, there was more…

Sulpicia's papery hands, folded around one of Beau's…

Myself, accepting a Volturi cape to put around my shoulders…

Beau, pale and shaking, in my arms…

Archie's reunion with Jessamine…

A blurry, indistinct image of our dining room table… I didn't know what to make of it.

 _I don't know,_ he thought, shaking his head once, almost imperceptibly, _But it has to mean something. There's more possibilities now… But you have to keep your temper. They disappear when you overreact like that._

I drew a breath, Beau's fragrance scorching my throat. I would take a thousand stabs of this sort of pain, in comparison to its absence. That was, by far, more painful than this. I blinked slowly and deliberately at my brother, making my promises. With an extreme amount of effort, I would be able to contain myself.

"Sulpicia will be delighted to see you again," Alexandra commented.

"Let's not keep her waiting." Jonathan reached out to take his sister's hand, and together they headed down the hall ahead of us. I stiffened when they ignored the ornate doors at the end and stopped halfway down, at a discreet wooden door.

 _Not this room!_ I thought in despair.

But they were pulling it open, releasing the air that smelled of death into the hallway. Though they were very thorough in their cleanup efforts, not all notes of blood could be erased. Archie's face was wooden as we stepped into the room, and I cursed myself for not paying close enough attention before. I hadn't realized Sulpicia was planning on holding our reunion in their _dining hall_!

There could only be one reason for doing so, and I tightened my grip on Beau infinitesimally.

As if he was aware of what this room was used for, he hesitated slightly upon our entrance.

His gaze, bright and blue and frightened, flitted around the large, stone antechamber, and his shoulders hunched slightly, as if trying to make himself smaller. His eyes drifted to the metal grate in the middle of the slanting floor. He didn't know this avenue provided no access to the tunnels below. He didn't know the grate only led to a furnace, which they used to cremate their drained victims.

I suppressed a shudder.

The room opened into the largest turret of the castle, where Sulpicia waited. For now, Athenodora and Marcus were nowhere to be seen. Only Sulpicia sat on her large, wooden throne at the other end of the room. Her posture was relaxed, casual, one elbow lounging on the arm rest, the other alongside her face, legs crossed beneath her elaborately brocade gown.

On either side of the room, members of her guard stood stiff as royal sentinels. They held no weapons in their hands, for there was no need.

When we entered, Sulpicia's facial expression was immediately animated, and she leaped agilely to her feet.

 _Ah! So he has not perished!_

Though her thoughts betrayed her interest, she ignored us for a moment. "Jonathan!" she enthused, reaching for him as he went to her, "You've returned, my dear one!"

It was as if she hadn't seen him in half a millennium by the way she received him into open arms, kissing him fully on the mouth. She regarded Jonathan in much the way she might regard a son, though Jonathan did not see their relationship in the same, tender way. I would not have thought he was capable of tender contemplation, or of the formation of relationships, if I had not already witnessed Marcus's gift, and the bonds that tied them together.

"Yes, my lady," he responded, stepping back, his hand still clasped with Alexandra's.

Sulpicia straightened and turned her gaze on us. "Ah, what a happy turn of events," she sighed. "Aren't you happy, dear Edythe, did I not grant your wishes yesterday? It appears you were wrong in your assumption that your beloved was dead—for here he stands at your side…" She turned tender eyes on him and smiled, "Dear Beau, how wonderful it is to meet you. And young Archie, as well!" she added, turning toward him very briefly. "I would love to hear the entire story of course, but first—" She held up a finger, and glanced over our heads. "Be a dear, Fern, and retrieve Marcus and Athenodora? They will not want to miss this regaling of events, I'm sure."

Fern nodded once, and with a low, "Yes, Mistress," immediately turned to leave.

Sulpicia took long, sweeping steps in front of us, and I watched Beau's face as he drank her in—the strange grace with which she moved, as if floating on air. The ribbons of dark, glossy hair that fell around her delicate-looking, pale face. The thin, milky film over her crimson eyes—brought on by a millennium of age and the lack of access to the outdoors.

"I do love happy endings," Sulpicia sighed, "However rare they tend to be…" She chuckled to herself, an image of her late husband, Aro, passing fleetingly through her mind. I found myself confused by her thought processes—she and Aro had most definitely _not_ had a happy ending. "So rare they tend to be…" she continued. Then she turned abruptly toward Archie. "Also rare, I hear, that your visions be wrong. How can it be so? Edythe gave me the very strong impression your gift was flawless."

"Oh, it's _far_ from flawless. Today's proof surely showed I cause nearly as many problems as I solve," he said to Sulpicia, grinning amicably. To any outsider, he was the picture of perfect ease—thumbs hooked in the pockets of his chinos, shoulders relaxed. But his thoughts were chaotic with hostility, escape tactics and the outcome of these tactics, conversational avenues and the inevitability of those, and the perplexing confusion over how Sulpicia knew so much about him.

"Oh, tosh," she chided, sweeping a hand dismissively through the air, "I've witnessed some of your more advanced feats—and I must say, I'm enamored by your extraordinary abilities. I've not witnessed anything like it in all my years."

Archie shot a very brief, questioning glare my way. _What did you tell her?_

"Oh, I apologize for my extreme rudeness," Sulpicia said, noticing our subtle exchange, "I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? It's so easy to do, you see, when I feel as if I already know you. You understand, I feel as if I met you yesterday, by way of your sister's thoughts. See, we share some of the same gift—only mine is more… Limited." A light, tinkling laugh escaped her. "If only your sister and her envious talent had existed when Mele had…"

I ignored that. "Oh, Sulpicia, don't be modest." My tone was only microscopically patronizing. "Your power is of much greater significance than mine." I turned to Archie to fully explain: "The gift Sulpicia took from Aro before he died requires physical contact to be conducive. But she hears every thought you've ever had, versus only being able to hear what is passing through your mind at any given moment, as I am."

Archie cocked a not so subtle eyebrow. _Every thought,_ ever _?_

I inclined my head just slightly in assent.

Of course, Sulpicia witnessed our entire silent conversation, and paid it close attention. Her mind swirled with excited possibilities in the face of Archie's muted curiosity.

"Ah, but such supremacy your gift offers… To be able to hear from a distance. That would be so _convenient_." _And strategically superior._

Again, she was allowing her mind to run away with the impossible prospect of not only myself, but now Archie as well, joining her guard.

 _To be able to see the outcome of a confrontation before it even happened…_

Sulpicia's eyes flickered beyond us, to the open doorway where Marcus and Athenodora were now entering.

"Ah, my companions—lovely for you to join us. Do you see? Beau Swan _is_ , in fact, alive. And Archie is here with him, too. How wonderful, don't you agree?"

Athenodora did not answer her, her thoughts contemptuous and disinterested as she passed Sulpicia to take her seat on the dais.

There was a glimmer of interest in Marcus's mind now, as he paused to very briefly touch his finger to Sulpicia's palm—freely allowing her access to his inner thoughts.

Where before, his impression of the faint crimson glow around me had been demure, now it had burst into bright, fiery ribbons, tying me to Archie and Beau strongly. The bond between us was almost brighter, even, than the one between Alexandra and Jonathan.

This surprised him, but not as much as the secondary bond did. A flowing tie, the deepest color of wine, wove interlacing, locking knots between Beau and myself. The vibrancy of it was amazing, transfixing.

Only once before had he ever witnessed a bond so strong. A pale, decorous face appeared in his mind, and at once, he was lost in grief and torment. _Didyme…_ Their bond had been as deep as the one between myself and Beau.

As he contemplated his lost love, the color that had bound their relationship changed, shifted, as he remembered her kiss, her tender touch, the sweet perfume of her skin and her hair.

It had to be the deepest of love that conceptualized their bond—and that of the one between me and Beau. There was no other possibility. He had never seen a bond so strong as the one that had existed between himself and his mate, and after her death, he assumed he would never see one as strong again—until now.

This shocked him, and intrigued him—as well as Sulpicia. She paged through Marcus's thoughts, skimming the most recent quickly with a note of admiration. She thought briefly of the bond she'd shared with Aro before the coup she'd performed, and even their bond had not been as strong as the one between me and Beau.

I laughed quietly through my nose. _Of course._ No one loved Sulpicia more than she adored herself…

 _What?_ Archie wanted to know.

"Ah, thank you, Marcus," Sulpicia said, "That _is_ interesting." _Such strong bonds tie them to each other… I wonder if it could be broken…_ Her thoughts flickered briefly to the male that hovered next to Athenodora, Chester.

His talent was one that caused me immediate trepidation. He was able to influence, strengthen, and even break the bonds between the vampires around him. Almost unconsciously, I reoriented myself so I was standing between Beau and the non-assuming vampire behind the dais.

 _Nothing_ would separate us, aside from death.

Chester focused his attentions on Marcus, a strange atmosphere passing through his mind. The purple string that attached him to Sulpicia strengthened in color, and Didyme, almost immediately, faded from Marcus's mind. Instead, his thoughts reoriented themselves around his loyalty to his brother's wife—the wife who had stolen her brother's power and then had him murdered. It wouldn't have made any sense if I hadn't been aware of Chester's talent.

When Chester turned his attention to us, testing our bonds, I tightened my hand around Beau's, focusing on the thrumming of his heart, the rhythm of his breathing—grounding myself in them. Nothing would come between us— _nothing_.

"Hmm, amazing," Sulpicia murmured to herself.

 _Edythe—what are they saying?!_ Archie's frustration was getting the best of him, and in any other circumstance, I would have found his scowl amusing.

"Marcus sees relationships," I explained lowly to him, "Ours is unusually intense. It's something he hasn't seen in quite some time."

 _Such aptitude,_ Sulpicia admired as she watched our one-sided conversation occur, _So young, too—to think how much her gift could grow in even half a century…_

I turned my gaze back on her, and she immediately slated her thoughts, moving on to different matters.

"I assure you—it takes quite a bit to surprise Marcus. Even I do not understand…" _To bond to her pet, her siren… When she kills him, it will surely destroy her._ "Does it not make you uncomfortable," she asked, noting the sliver of space between Beau and I, our interlocked hands, the air we shared, "to stand so close to him?"

She wondered at the pain it must cause me, the temptation I must resist. She remembered the intensity of my craving for his blood in my memory, and swallowed thickly herself.

" _Il suo cantante,_ " she went on, not having really been looking for an answer from me, "I don't understand. In your thoughts, I experienced what it was like to resist—and for all the effort it takes… Well, is it worth it?" She again turned her attention on Beau, the thirst flaring in her thoughts.

She saw him as nothing more than a vessel for the sweet elixir she and her companions so craved. She hadn't taken the time to get to know him, to unearth the beauty of the boy underneath the flavor, the fragrance. She and her companions didn't see how truly amazing he was. They pretended to be civilized, pretending to repose the manner and compassion of humans, but they were nothing but bloodthirsty monsters.

I felt myself stiffen, resisting the urge to take a more defensive position in front of Beau.

"Do not be alarmed, my dear," Sulpicia soothed, "My control is well-constrained. I mean him no harm… I _am_ curious about one thing, though…" She held a hand up. _He shields your abilities so well… Does he block others the same way?_ "If I may?"

I felt my chin jut, offended by her clear lack of regard for Beau's governance. "Ask _him_."

"Of course, of course." She turned hungry eyes on the affection of my ardor. His heartbeat stuttered, just slightly. "Beau," she addressed him directly now, "I've learned from your beloved's thoughts that you are the one exception to her extraordinary talent—and I've found myself thrilled by such an occurrence! Never before has something so exceptional occurred! And I was curious, since our talents dovetail so closely, if you were also immune to _my_ ability?"

Beau's eyes, liquid and alight with fear, locked on mine. His trepidation swept through me like a cold wind. I wished I could comfort him, but he had no choice. If we wanted to live through the next few minutes, he would have to allow Sulpicia to try. Besides, Archie was certain Sulpicia would not hurt him.

Another part of me, a sickening, very brief part, was curious. If Sulpicia _could_ somehow access the thoughts in his mind that had so long been hidden from me, I would be able to hear them now, too, by reading Sulpicia's thoughts. I would know how he felt about my leaving him, if he despised my fleeing, if he had found another in my absence, how he felt when he touched me, even now. Was it out of self-preservation, for fear of his life? Or was he touching me because he still loved me? I didn't know.

In an instant, Archie answered my own questions for me. Beau's secrets would remain his own.

Confident that he would incur no harm, I nodded at him. He released my hand and moved to take one long, striding step around me. But my muscles, of their own accord, moved me so I stayed between him and the imminent threat of the Volturi guard. We walked together toward Sulpicia, where she waited impatiently on her podium, hand extended.

As she appraised Beau's face, her eyes swam with peace, but her thoughts spoke otherwise.

 _He moves so slowly. How can she stand it?_

When we reached her, she eagerly reached for his trembling hand. Enfolding her small hands around one of his, she let her eyes slide closed. I kept my gaze firmly on her face from where I was sandwiched firmly between them, my back pressed tightly to Beau's chest.

I could feel every muscle in his body, tense with strife.

Sulpicia concentrated, and then concentrated a little more, her efforts showing in the wrinkling lines on her forehead. She could hear nothing—nothing at all. Relief flooded through me.

"Absolutely enthralling," Sulpicia hummed as she released Beau's hand, her eyes sliding open. Though she pretended she was thrilled by the lack of access to Beau's mind, her thoughts were humming with displeasure and frustration. She was not used to being thwarted.

I fought back a smug smile. But the smile turned cold and frozen when her ensuing thoughts were made clear to me.

 _If he can block both mine and the young immortal's gift as a mere human—how much more powerful would he be once turned?_ she mused. _Such advantage these three would bring me…_ She pictured it in her mind, the three of us—alike in skin tone and eye color—shrouded in the blackest of robes, at her side.

For a very brief moment, I wondered at what potential she saw in Beau—was it a real gift she was seeing?—but she did not concentrate on his aptitude long enough for me to find out.

Her thoughts turned suddenly volatile, and a tad amused, expectant. She knew she would get a reaction from me out of this.

"A first…" she murmured thoughtfully, aloud. _Who else is he able to deflect?_ "I wonder… if he is immune to _all_ of our talents?" She turned milky eyes on the small, male child. "Jonathan, dear?"

" _No!_ " The hatred burst from me in a single word, turning my world a hazy crimson color. I felt a hand on my arm, but shook the restraining force off.

 _Edy, look…_ Archie pleaded.

I shook my head sharply, once, turning baleful eyes on Jonathan.

Jonathan ignored me, smiling serenely up at his mistress. "Yes, my lady?" he crooned, fully aware of my horror-struck stance, fully aware of his sick, masochistic power.

 _Who will scream louder, I wonder? You… Or him?_

The snarls ripped powerfully from my chest, vibrating through my whole body as I turned on Sulpicia, gripping Beau's wrist. I would not allow Beau to be submitted to Jonathan's evil power. It would _kill_ him, surely!

Sulpicia did not react to my challenging snarls, though the rest of the guard was stunned into infuriated humiliation at my rage. Fern would have liked to restrain me, to stop my rebellious ways, and she stepped forward, but Sulpicia waved her off without even looking her way.

Fern stepped obediently back into position.

 _Edythe, chill. He'll be fine!_ Archie tried again, but I ignored him.

"I wonder if Beau is immune to _your_ talents, my dear one?" Sulpicia said to Jonathan.

The growl ripped itself from my throat as I moved to crouch in front of Beau, eyes fixed on the immediate threat now. The young boy would _pay_ if he tried, and while I was aware I would most likely not make it, that I would most likely be punished for my actions, I would do anything to keep Beau from harm.

Jonathan turned cool, calculating eyes on my love's face. Instinctively, I sprung.

"Edythe, _don't_!" Archie shouted, but I was already moving.

.

 **A/N:** If you enjoyed this, let me know! I'm so used to writing shorter chapters, I almost feel this is _too_ long… But, y'know, there's no such thing as too long, right? See ya next time!


	14. Verdict

**A/N:** I was so very cruel last time, leaving you with such a cliffhanger—so here's the next update! It's a shorter one this time—for the sake of chapter congruency with the original storyline—sorry, folks! Forgive me. The next one will be longer, for sure!

.

I did not make it to Jonathan; I paid the price of my rebellion before I was halfway to him. As he turned his eyes on me, no longer bored, now alight with sick fascination, I collapsed to the stone floor.

Immediately, I was engulfed in flames. Every cell, every strand of muscle, every bone was blazing with conflagration—my entire being, consumed by the cinders. It scorched my skin, fried my insides, turned my bones to embers.

A scream of agony fought its way into my throat, but I clamped my teeth shut against it, knowing my show of pain would trigger a reaction in Beau. And if he tried to intervene, he would be punished as well.

The flames rose higher, burning hotter. I could practically hear my skin sizzling away underneath the horrible heat of Jonathan's power.

" _Please!_ " Beau's voice rang out above the clamor, echoing back to me from the stone walls surrounding us, "Stop! _Please_!"

The flames rose higher in response to his cries of pain, at the cost of mine. I clenched my teeth tighter, smothering the screams.

"Jonathan," a soft, disinterested voice called, "That's quite enough."

As quickly as it had come, the pain vanished. The disorientation of it was stunning, and it took me half a second to reorient myself, in the absence of the fire.

When I regained conscious thought, and realized what would happen now, I leapt to my feet, horror-struck.

 _Beau… No!_

I turned my eyes to his face. Archie had Beau's arms pinned to his sides as he struggled uselessly.

In Jonathan's mind, the flames curled around Beau's body, burning brightly.

 _No!_ I wanted to cry out, _Not him!_

Realization dawned, as he struggled, not to cringe from the pain in Archie's arms, but as he struggled toward _me_ , that Jonathan's influence had no command over him. He was only worried for _my_ well-being, and relief flooded through me, anchoring my feet to the floor.

In Jonathan's mind, the flames lifted higher, twisting even more fiercely around Beau—but he still did not react.

A small sigh escaped my lips, and I moved toward them—soothed by the knowledge that Beau was fine.

Jonathan's casual, smug expression had vanished. In its place was a grimace of incensed concentration. He had never had to expel even the slightest of efforts to call someone to his or her knees in front of him. He struggled, now, to pull a reaction out of my love. He would not succeed; I knew this even before Archie reassured me.

 _He's immune. If you had waited half a second, you would have known that, too…_

I went to them, and pulled Beau from Archie's arms. Immediately, his locked around me, pulling me to his chest. My arms wound around his warm, soft waist, automatically, the thumping of his frantic, concerned heart and the whoosh of his breath filled my ears.

Jonathan's top lip curled back from his teeth, and he slumped forward into an offensive crouch. He was prepared to cause Beau pain one way, or another.

Before I could match his stance, Sulpicia began to laugh.

The sweet, child-like sound caught me off-guard, and she rested a light, soft hand on Jonathan's shoulder. Immediately, he straightened.

 _Yes, very powerful, indeed,_ Sulpicia thought to herself.

"He must be changed," she decided abruptly. The thought had barely entered her mind before it had filtered into words, and I felt myself stiffen. "There is no other way, no other option… You have indeed fragmented the highest of our laws, Edythe. Something must be done to rectify the situation. When I first learned of your breech, I had assumed he had died—and since there was no consequence in such a situation, I had decided to simply let the broken rule slide… But to know, now, that he remains alive… Well, something must be done."

"Do you not keep humans here, as well?" I pointed out carefully. My argument was thinly veiled, but it was all I had left to fight with.

"Yes—" It was Athenodora who spoke now, tired of my insolence, "But our ultimate fate for them differs greatly from yours, does it not?" She knew I would never end Beau's life in the way they intended to end every human under their instruction. "I doubt your ability to destroy him, if he betrays our secret."

"He's proven himself more than trustworthy," I begged, my eyes turning to Sulpicia, "You know that as well as I do."

"Nor do you intend to grant him immortality," Athenodora continued, ignoring my pleads, "Therefore, he cannot simply be trusted according to your word. He must be vanquished."

"Or turned," Sulpicia reminded her brightly. "But, of course, you must be sincere in your promise." She leveled her gaze at me, and offered me her hand.

I sifted through her mind, intending to unearth her deception. "And if I do intend to turn him?"

She smiled, very softly. "Why then, of course you would be free to return home. Do give my regards to my dear companion, Carine?" She paused. "But of course, as I stated earlier, you would have to mean it."

I hesitated, turning to gaze up into Beau's eyes. So bright, so open, so trusting… Did he realize I held his fate in my hands, _again_? In the plaza, I'd believed we finally had a forever paradise, stretched out in front of us. Little did I know, an hour later, I would again be faced with the lesser of two evils… To damn his soul, or to lose his life?

How many times had I been faced with this decision?

Whichever choice I made now, his warmth, his softness, the azure sereneness of his eyes, would be gone forever. In one instance—fixed staring and black, pupils dilated in death. The other—a shift between the blackness of thirst, and the disturbing crimson of a bloodthirsty monster…

How could I make this choice? How could I know for certain which would be better?

Of course, my selfishness desired greatly to agree to the inevitability of his change—but it had been months since the matter had been spoken of. In all his time without me, his mind may have been changed. There was a great possibility he didn't want a life of immortality anymore.

"Mean it," he murmured—and the depth of emotion in his eyes was astounding. "Please."

I stood very still, trapped in the depth of his gaze. How could I know, for certain, that I was making the correct choice?

Was death worse than denying him access to the paradise he deserved?

What good could come from committing such an atrocity to fulfill my own desire to be with him forever?

Was I willing to risk Beau hating me forever for what I'd done to him?

But I could not even bring myself to think of letting him die. Here, now, tomorrow, _ever._

Could I mean it with enough sincerity to convince Sulpicia, even though I could not discern a clear answer now?

 _You have to mean it,_ Archie reminded me, _Or she won't believe you._

It was clear. The moment she touched my hand and saw that I was less than resolute, she would shake her head. Half a second after that, Fern would snap Beau's neck as she brought her lips to his throat. He wouldn't have time to see it coming, to even take a breath to prepare himself…

The pain of the vision nearly buckled my knees. I was so distracted by the agony that it took me a moment to tune in to Archie's memories now.

The inside of an aircraft, the whispered conversation as the sun rose behind the window shade… _"I've just about made up my mind that I'll just do it. I'll change you…"_ And the ensuing image of the reunion he would have with Jessamine in the face of his musings. He hadn't pieced together the correlation then, but it was clear to him now.

The zip of a dark sedan, snaking away from Volterra's castle walls at sundown, our aircraft landing on the tarmac of the SeaTac airport, our family greeting us in the terminal… These three glimpses were more resolute than any of the other visions I'd seen in his head today.

 _I'll do it. I'll change him. She'll believe me,_ he thought.

He'd made the decision I couldn't—and I would forever be grateful to him. Regardless of the outcome, my brother would be the key to our escape from here. I refused to think of what this decision meant for Beau's future—I would deal with that when we were free of this awful place, when Beau was safe at home.

"I'll do it," Archie spoke up then, striding forward. With one agile jump, he leaped onto the platform. The guards tensed, but Sulpicia warded them off. "I'll change him. Have a look."

He held out his hand and Sulpicia, her greed unhidden, grasped his hand.

Her eyes closed, and her slim shoulders hunched beneath the heaviness that was Archie's inner workings.

The curiosity of the past pushed aside for now, he threw himself into the future, and what he saw occurring.

 _Beau, viridian eyes sincere with apology, speaking to Jessamine…_

 _Beau, dressed in bright yellow robes, accepting his diploma from Principal Martin…_

 _Beau, writhing and screaming in pain as I held him through the change… Outside, a summer sunset would glow…_

 _Beau—skin hard and luminous pearl, crouched on the bough of a pine. Powder-blue button shirt ripped, feral red eyes fixed hungrily on whatever he was tracking below…_

Images of the future littered the atmosphere of Archie's mind like constellations, as he worked himself free of the premonitions, and opened his past to Sulpicia.

And then the memories paraded at a blinding rate through Archie's mind. Most of his human recollections were dark and indistinct—only the tenor of pain and loneliness apparent. The soft, proud face of a young woman with long, flowing black hair—arms held out to receive. His mother?

Another face—a beatific young female vampire with pale, braided flaxen hair and ruby red eyes. Concern on her face. The connotation of gifts, and well-kept company…

" _It has to be now," she said, "There's no time to run."_

The repeating of events and memories I already knew of—Archie's awakening to his new life, his discovery of the vegetarian lifestyle, acquiring money and non-descript places to live through gambling, various discreet jobs and his stock market predictions, working toward finding Jessamine—waiting with great expectation of her readiness—and then their journey together as they traveled toward our family… Our many returns to Forks, and the Spring that ensued when I met Beau…

" _Either she'll kill him herself—or he'll become one of us one day."_

The entire occurrences of what had followed, the confrontation with Joss, the near change that had occurred in the ballet studio, the summer spent in bliss, the macabre birthday party, our leaving.

There was a very brief collection of flickering images—how Archie had distracted himself in the time we'd been apart over the last few months. The city of Biloxi, Mississippi, an old man's face, and the ache of homesickness.

Again, I saw Beau leap from the cliffs, and his and Archie's reunion at the house.

Their conversation in the darkened living room, the night Beau had almost drowned… The hollow panic in his face when Archie suggested he leave again.

The progression slowed, a shimmering image appearing. Beau snored softly on the couch, Archie and Charlie sat together in the tiny kitchen. Charlie nursed a cup of coffee while Archie sat in the chair across from him, an untouched glass of water in front of him.

" _I'd never seen the kid like that before… It scared me something awful. Renee wanted him home, even came to get him. I thought we were gonna have to commit the poor kid…"_

The events that had led us here, and then finally, the band of Sulpicia's power subsided as she released her hold on Archie's hands, and lifted her head.

Her milky eyes cleared as he sighed softly, dreamily. "Ah, such captivation," she breathed, "Thank you, dear Archie."

Archie smirked. "No problem."

"To witness what you've witnessed," Sulpicia marveled, "Especially the events that haven't occurred yet!"

"But they will," he prompted.

"Of course—it's quite clear," she acknowledged. She lifted her eyes over Archie's shoulder, to where Beau and I stood. She was about to grant us our freedom, an opportunity I was grasping at tenaciously, when Athenodora spoke.

She was not convinced. "Sulpicia," she cautioned. _I don't trust them to depart!_

"Oh, Dora," Sulpicia responded, smiling softly over her shoulder at her sister, "Do not stress yourself with worry. Think of the possibilities—they do not join us today, but we can always have faith that things may change…" She faded into daydreaming, imagining what she didn't know would be impossible.

My impatience was getting the best of me. "Is that all, then?"

There was a hum, like the gurgle of a stream, of thoughts—growing closer. I could only summarize what this must mean, in correlation with the surrounding occupants' readiness for mealtime, and the setting of our conversation.

"Yes, of course," Sulpicia said, "I see no reason to detain you any further."

I wasn't the only one who heard the approaching group of humans. Some of the vampires in the room shifted impatiently. Fern sighed, irascible.

 _So hungry…_ she complained. _And now I don't even get to taste the boy…_

"Oh, Fern," Sulpicia chided tenderly, "Patience."

Their order had arrived, and judging by the bloodbath Archie saw in the near future, we needed to go.

"If that's everything, then, we'll be on our way."

"I must ask that you wait below until nightfall—you would understand, after today's events, why we would exercise a little extra caution. It should put enough space between us—we cannot be totally responsible for our instincts once the meal begins, and I would hate to put your precious Beau in harm's way."

"Yes," I agreed, and spun toward the door, seizing Beau's wrist. It was time to leave, and leave now.

"Just one more thing, dear," Sulpicia called, motioning with one hand for Fern to step forward. Another of Archie's visions came to fruition as she unfastened her cloak from around her neck and held it out toward me. "The breeze is a little chilly for the humans today. Take this to appear less conspicuous."

I seized the cape without question, Archie's thoughts growing anxious.

 _We need to go, Edythe. Now._

"Ah, it suits you," Sulpicia said longingly as I slung the wool cloak over my shoulders, "You would make an excellent addition to the guard… I'll keep my offer open, as long as it stands."

"It could be awhile before I accept," I replied flatly.

Sulpicia smirked. "Noted."

I stiffened, hearing the door to the antechamber open.

 _Time to go, time to go… Now!_

"You'd best be going now. Didymus, please escort them to the waiting area."

Didymus nodded, and moved toward us. I didn't need anymore urging than that. I gripped Beau's wrist and pulled him toward the door swiftly.

"Not gonna make it," Archie muttered tersely under his breath as we towed him through the door. "Not gonna _make it…_ "

"What's happening?" Beau demanded lowly, his voice hoarse with panic. We didn't answer.

We made it to the antechamber, where the guests flowing through the small wooden door hindered our exit. Their eyes were alight with mysticism and delight, completely unaware of the end that would soon meet them.

Didymus lifted her arm, motioning for us to get back against the wall to allow the humans' passage. The group paraded by, one after another, and my tension grew. I searched for the slightest opening in the crowd, rigid with anxiety. From where Beau pressed against my side, I knew the instant he realized what was going on. His entire body went stiff, and his heart skipped a beat.

The instant I saw a break, I dragged him through the door, out into the now empty hallway. Though Beau didn't resist my escort, he glanced back just before the small wooden door closed behind us.

The only other occupant of the hallway was a tall, young looking male vampire—dressed to impress, and with blue contacts in his eyes, tinting the red irises an odd purple color.

He noticed Beau and recounted the occupants of his findings quickly. _Did I miss one?_ he wondered, and then realized, _No. He wasn't a part of my group._ He noticed the dark grey cloak around my shoulders and speculated over the possibility of an addition to the guard.

"Welcome home, Horatio," Didymus said in greeting. Horatio waited, expecting a further explanation from her regarding my attire. "A successful trip?"

"Quite," Horatio agreed as Didymus gestured us ahead. His eyes flickered past me once more before he decided he was too thirsty to follow his line of intrigue any longer. "Are you coming?" he asked Didymus when she started past him.

"In a moment," she said, smiling, "Save a few for me."

I pushed Beau forward, hurrying for the doors, but I was not fast enough.

Behind us, the wailing, moaning, screams of the dying echoed to us down the corridor.

.

 **A/N:** The picture that rose into my face when I pictured Archie's creator was Emilia Clarke, hair braided Game-of-Thrones style. I've always been fascinated by A/J's origin slash love story. It has a dreamlike, destined-to-be aura, and I've read a couple different fics, but none that are as accurate as I hoped. If any of you know of some good Alice/Jasper Archie/Jessamine ff, send them my way, please!

I'll talk to you guys again soon!


	15. Escape

**A/N:** Hi, everyone. Here's the next one—another long one! Get used to 'em ;)

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By the time we reached the waiting room, Beau's trembling, pale form was practically listless.

At once, I was overtly concerned for his well-being. Was he going into shock? Would he lose consciousness?

"We'd better get him sitting," Archie murmured when Didymus had left us with a warning to wait until dark, "He's gonna lose it."

I took him to one of the plush loveseats close by, putting a hand on the back of his clammy neck. I'd never seen his face so pale, and his eyes were wide, unfocused, as he trembled.

"Shh, Beau," I tried to soothe him, "It's okay, you're okay."

When the lavish double doors had closed behind us, the human screams of terror, despair and pain had faded to human ears. There was no way he could still hear the vicious violence that was taking place, even now.

I guided him down beside me on the seat, drawing him close. Second guessing myself, I pulled back to unfasten the cloak from around my neck, and then draped it between us. Now sheltered from the chill of my skin, I pulled him to me. I rocked him just a little too quickly, his head in the crook of my neck.

"It's all right, you're fine, Beau—you're safe," I murmured again and again. He clutched me so closely, with such strength, it was as if his life depended on it. His breathing was ragged and uneven, his skin slick with sweat.

Many times, he struggled to speak through his obvious hysteria, but I only hushed him soothingly.

It was true that he was safe physically—I would catch him should he fall, I would provide warmth with the cloak I half-wore—but how much damage had I done to his spirit, allowing him to witness such gore?

It seemed he'd finally completely grasped the depravity of our kind—the type of soulless monsters we truly were.

"All those people," he rasped huskily.

"I know, I know," I murmured softly, "It's horrible. Sickening. I wish you hadn't had to witness it." I closed my eyes tightly, tormented by his own disturbance. There was absolutely nothing I could say to ease his disgust. _This_ was the harsh reality of the world of vampires. _This_ was the true core of what we were, what animalistic, savage creatures we were—the truth was here, even now, as his blood's fragrance incinerated my throat.

I could not deny our depravity, the monstrous nature of our unforgivable sin. I would be lying if I attempted to tell him otherwise.

I waited for the inevitable—his rejection, his disgust. How could he look me in the eye, now?

Gradually, though my silent inferno raged on, Beau's shaking began to ease, and he relaxed, heavy, against my side. He took a few deep breaths, seemingly attempting to steady himself.

Then I heard the human receptionist approaching, his soft leather shoes slapping against the marble floor. He paused a few feet away.

"Is there anything I can get you?" he asked. His mannerisms were rooted in true concern, but he also wanted to ensure I be impressed by his politeness—should I turn out to be a new addition.

"No, nothing," I snapped at him, in a harsher voice than I had intended, but I had no patience for the human's irrational expectancy.

"Let me know if you do," Giovanni said, nodding politely once at Beau, and then retreated back behind the counter. He was not at all thrown by my volatility. He was used to the erratic moods of a vampire. He kept an eye on us from his desk, ready to return if we showed any indication of needing anything.

Beau sat up a little, putting a fraction of distance between us. I felt suddenly cold in the minute absence of his warmth—my memory had put him completely to shame. He was far sweeter, far warmer, far softer, than I could have remembered.

His eyes shifted between my face and Giovanni, who was leafing through a manual now.

"Does… Does he know?" Beau murmured lowly, making sure his voice didn't carry across the wide, quiet room.

"Yes," I answered in equal tone, "He knows everything."

Surprise was apparent in his expression. "Does he know he might… You know…" He couldn't seem to bring himself to say the words, and my spirit cringed at his soft nature. Truly, I had likely traumatized him.

"He's hoping they'll decide to turn him instead."

Beau's face lost its color, clear proof that he had been as disturbed by the prospect of immortality as I'd thought. My time away _had_ changed his mind.

"He wants to be… One of _them_?" His voice was blank with disbelief.

I nodded, my guilt momentarily eclipsed by the joy I felt in his reference to the Volturi as ' _them_ ' and not ' _you_ '. Insofar, he did not group me in with the monsters feeding in the other room.

"But… Why?" He struggled to understand. "Who would want to be a _part_ of that?"

For that, I had no answer.

We sat quietly together for a very long moment, and when I turned to take him in, I found him already staring at me. Drinking in the pallor of his skin, the hollowness in his cheeks and under his eyes, I realized for the first time that he'd lost weight. He looked _exhausted_ , and not just in the way one would look after a night of lost sleep.

As my eyes roamed his face, his roamed mine, and it was clear, as he folded my hands in his, that he still loved me. The realization struck me with such ferocity, I felt the grounds might open up beneath our feet. How had I ever thought otherwise?

I saw, now, that his love would not be so easily extinguished in the face of my departure. After all the ways I'd hurt him, everything I'd put him through… How could I possibly deserve for him to still appraise me that way—with such deep ardor in his eyes?

"We did it," he whispered, and lifted his hand to hold it alongside my face.

I sighed softly, reveling in the wonderful warmth of his palm against my skin, lifting my own hand to hold his there, leaning reverently into his touch. "Mmm," I finally hummed and opened my eyes, finding him still watching me, "Did what?"

"We… _Survived_."

"Yes," I murmured, "We did—and we did it together."

Some other emotion flitted across his face—too fast for me to comprehend. What did _that_ mean? I struggled to fit the puzzle pieces together. Maybe I'd mistaken the ardor I'd seen in his eyes. My stomach dropped.

I lifted gentle fingers to brush, feather-soft, against the purple bruises underneath his eyes. The bones of his face pushed prominently against the thin membrane of his pale skin, and the guilt lanced through me anew.

"You look exhausted." I tried to make my tone sound disapproving, but I could only hear the deep shame in my voice.

His eyes dropped to the rings underneath my eyes, his thumb brushing softly along my cheekbone. "And you look super thirsty."

I did not know if he could comprehend how little my thirst affected me now. I would bathe in a bath of blood if it would keep him out of harm's way. "It's nothing," I insisted.

But Beau's hand dropped from my face, and so unexpected was his movement, I didn't have time to catch him quickly enough, he shifted away from me. "Oh—sorry. Maybe I should go sit with Archie," he said.

I couldn't help but laugh, very softly, though the space between us felt infinite. I shifted over, arranging the cloak across his lap and chest so I could settle into his lap. Curling in, I teased, "Don't worry. I'm cured."

Truly, in that moment, it felt so. Of course, the perfume of his blood seared my throat with blistering heat. But the venom was surprisingly easy to swallow back. My muscles stayed undulated, relaxed, and not one image of my teeth, sinking through his skin, came to mind. All it had taken, I thought ironically, was the idea that he'd been lost.

"Really—" he said, "I can move if you need me to. It's not a problem." But his arms held me to his chest, and as he spoke, he buried his face in the crown of my hair.

"It's never been easier than it is now," I confessed, closing my eyes and pressing my ear directly over his heart so I could hear its vibrant vitality, the strength with which it pumped his life's essence through his body. Strong, and supple, and soft and warm— _alive_.

If there _was_ a higher power, Whoever it was had found favor with me today—I could not comprehend the gift of having Beau here in my arms again.

I listened to his heart's easy rhythm until I was sure I'd rememorized every beat, and then I sat up, so I could catalogue each change in his face I'd missed over the months I'd been gone.

The face I'd held in my mind from the many months ago, and the face I saw now, were vastly different—at least to a vampire's eyes. I noted each inflection of his subtle aging immediately: the slight hardening of his jaw, his thick hair was half a shade darker, and two inches longer. Its strands brushed at his eyebrows, in need of a trim. But most peculiar of all was the changed light in his eyes, the aura of maturity and something else I couldn't quite place, in their depths.

What, or _who_ , had brought about this change in him?

I thought I could guess…

Before I could let the thoughts distract me, Archie spoke: "So, did you run all the way to Rome, then?"

"I wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind to rent a car," I retorted, only flicking my gaze briefly to his face before returning my eyes to Beau's. "What would you suggest for our return?"

Archie grinned, tender reminder lighting in his mind. "What a trip up…" he mused, almost dreamily. He hoped to find an equally as thrilling car to get us back to the airport.

"I don't think a two-seater will do us any good."

"You could sit in his lap." He arched an eyebrow at me. "No risk of you flying through the windshield by the way he's holding onto you."

Beau's hands, wrapped around my waist, were white knuckled and locked together.

Our words were exchanged too quickly and quietly for Beau to overhear, and I giggled softly, knowing this. His gaze flickered between the two of us, perplexed.

"A four-door would better suit our needs, don't you think?" I prodded.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I get it… What was all that jabber about _singers_?"

" _Il suo cantante,_ " I repeated the phrase Sulpicia had used reflexively. "The way Beau's blood sings to me… I guess they put a name to it. Apparently, it's supposed to be quite rare."

Archie laughed. _Of course. He's your singer, you're his music._

.

When we exited, hours later into the dark streets, the party was still in an uproar. Much to my horror, the vampire charade had been taken up with many of the people. Plastic fangs and cheaply-made silk capes glared at me from the winding crowds.

"Absurd," I complained under my breath. Such frivolous behavior regarding the existence of our nature—such mockery. All the while, the largest, most formidable coven of vampires lived right underneath their noses. It was painfully paradoxical.

 _I'll meet you at the gate,_ Archie thought, remembering the spot he'd abandoned his and Beau's bags at.

I glanced toward the roofline, which was not vacant, and arched an eyebrow at him.

 _Don't worry—I'll be careful._ He slipped easily into a nearby alley, vaulting himself to the upper reaches of the stone walls. His thoughts skipped out of sight, but not before one of the guards was sent after him to ensure he not try anything suspicious.

I wove my fingers through Beau's and we began to swim our way through the teeming, serpentine crowd. More than a few of its occupants had had too much to drink, and some of them bumped and jostled against us.

" _Abbastanza il costume convincente, la mia bellezza dai capelli rossi_ ," a dark young man murmured, catching the edge of my cape as it flared toward him. His thoughts were not entirely committed to the red-lipped woman who hung off his arm.

I ignored his compliment and looped my arm through Beau's, pressing myself tighter to him as we wove our way through the overflowing streets.

"Where'd Archie go?" Beau suddenly asked a moment later. His head swiveled from side to side, searching for him in the crowds.

"He went to get your stashed bags," I explained.

Seeming relieved, he huffed a sigh of relief. The scent of timber and mint and pine swirled around me, all combined with the intoxicating allure of his blood. Though it burned, I was reminded again that it was far easier to ignore than the urge had ever been. With each passing minute, I grew more and more convinced that the siren of his blood would never affect me the same way again.

When Beau glanced down at me this time, there was a hint of humor in his eyes, a carefreeness I had not witnessed in him until now. It lifted my heart.

"Somebody should remind him this isn't Grand Theft Auto," he quipped.

I couldn't help laughing, truly light-hearted now, as he smiled back, the entire expression lighting up his face. "We'll meet him outside."

As we continued to make our way toward the entrance of the city, it became clear to me just how exhausted Beau was. Without really meaning to, he began to rest most of his weight on me, adopting a slumped stance as he walked. His eyelids drooped, and twice I watched him stifle a yawn.

Truly, he was spent. And with good reason.

Regardless, half-carrying him, we made better time.

As we passed under the stone portcullis, a familiar mental presence hissed in my metaphorical ear.

 _I'll be seeing you…_ Fern. Again, I was made aware of the strange fingerprint she seemed to retain of me in her mind. A tracker, no doubt. Joss's gift had been different by means of avenue, but it was a recognizable talent all the same. She would be able to find me easily, it was true, but I was relieved to find that she could peg no read on Beau. He would be safe from her advances—and besides, we would know if she decided to pay us a visit.

In the shadows, Archie was waiting in a black Audi, the engine idling quietly. I led Beau toward its enclosure, pulling open the backdoor and gesturing for Beau to enter first. He slid across the buttery seat, and I got in with him.

"Sorry," Archie said as Beau buckled up. "Wasn't much of a selection this time."

He pulled away from the curb, sliding into the sparse traffic.

"It's fine," I said, smirking as he took a curve slower than he would have liked to. Even with its precise German engineering, it wasn't able to take the curves as sharply as the Porsche had. "They can't all be 911 Turbos."

He grunted moodily, a flash of the bumblebee-themed interior flashing through his mind. "She was a dream—a _dream_ of dreams. I might have to acquire one for myself—you know, legal papers and all."

I giggled softly, stroking the soft, warm skin of Beau's forearm. "I'll get you one for Christmas," I promised him. It was the least I could do for my favorite brother, after all he'd done.

He grinned at me over his shoulder. "Best sister ever! Yellow, please."

I could feel Beau relaxing against the supple interior of the seat next to me, hand still holding mine, but going slack between my fingers. Beneath the hum of the engine, I could hear his breath, low and even.

"You can sleep now, Beau," I told him, "You're safe now."

But he shook his head, jerking upright from where he'd been relaxed against the headrest. "I'm not tired," he insisted, but his voice dragged with exhaustion. He wasn't fooling anyone.

It was clear he was lying—but why? Was it for my sake, or his? "You should try," I insisted. It was a long drive to the airport, when one drove at a reasonable speed. He would have plenty of time to adequately rest before we had to catch our flight.

Beau shook his head, tightening his arm around me. "Don't think so."

I arched a brow at him, but he peered down at me with such intense supplication in his eyes, I was thrown. Was he still afraid? The threat was behind us now… Or did he not think so?

Suddenly wary of the source of his fear, I stopped insisting.

We stopped very briefly on our way to Florence to buy fresh clothes and abandon the car that Archie saw being reported stolen in the next few minutes. We caught a taxi to the airport.

The trip to Rome was short, and so I wasn't all that surprised when Beau did not sleep. Instead, he kept his eyes locked on mine the entire time, the strangest sense of trepidation in his eyes. I didn't know quite what to make of it.

We had to run to make our connection to Atlanta. Before we had ascended fully, Archie was ripping the AirPhone out of its cradle and dialing Jessamine. His anxiety had piqued to the point of pain during our short flight to Rome. Jessamine was so close to catching a flight to Chicago, and then heading east—intent on tracking Archie down one way or another—that it was indistinct whether he'd catch her in time or not.

When she answered, he uttered her name with such relief, it sounded like he could have cried.

"Jess."

"Archie, where are you?" Jessamine's voice was terse and anxious. "I hadn't heard for so long, I was just about to—"

"We're fine, love, we're all fine," he assured her, "Don't board that plane. We're on a flight to Atlanta. I'll see you soon, okay?"

Jessamine's breathy sigh of relief came through the line clearly. "Thank God," she murmured, and then, "How soon will I see you?"

"Only—" Archie paused, "In seventeen hours and… Forty nine minutes. Not long at all."

"Speak for yourself," Jessamine complained, and then her voice gentled, softened, "I was so worried about you—don't you ever put me through something like that again, Archie."

"I missed you too, Jess," Archie whispered, "So much. Now, you get that gorgeous behind of yours back to Seattle, and you wait for me there."

"Don't believe for a second you're getting off easy."

Archie stiffened. "Easy?"

"I know you lied to me." Jess's voice was low and accusatory. I could picture the way her eyes would narrow.

"I didn't want—"

"To worry me, I know," she interrupted him, "And I don't blame you—but please don't lie to me again, Archie."

"I won't." His voice was firm with conviction. "Will you forgive me for this time?"

"I don't know," Jessamine's voice turned lilting, softly teasing, "Come home and find out."

Archie chuckled lowly and I tuned their quickly-becoming-intimate conversation from my mind.

Now, Beau was ordering a Coke from the flight attendant, and I was immediately disapproving.

"Beau," I murmured censoriously. His body did not tolerate caffeine well, and I feared he knew this—using it as leverage to keep himself awake on the long trip home.

"Edythe," he turned to me, "I'm not tired, I swear."

I lifted my free hand—the other one ensnared in his warm grasp—and traced the purple circles underneath his eyes. "I don't believe you."

For a minute, he closed his eyes, and I wondered if he would give in. But when he opened them, his gaze burned with an anxiety more intense than I had seen up to this point. "Don't make me sleep—I don't want to. If I do, I'll… I'll see things I really don't feel like seeing…"

I felt stunned by the realization of my own selfishness. Of course he wouldn't want to sleep now. Of course, he was scared. The tender concern twisted my stomach, and I didn't argue again after that. I rested my head on his shoulder, wishing I could comfort him. It was only an inevitability—surely, he would pass out from the fatigue. I wished there was some way I could guard him from the nightmares when he did.

Instead, I was the one who'd inflicted impossible pain on him—I was the reason for his would-be nightmares, and I was the reason for the torment he'd gone through in these past months. I traced the far-too-prominent bones in his hands and wrists, knowing that he'd lost weight in the time I'd been gone.

It was an inarguable point: I would not leave his side again. But whose well-being would it really benefit? Only mine, surely. Would I ever bring him anything but pain?

I wrestled with that question nearly the entire trip home. I was afraid to speak, to disturb Beau's quiet contemplation. I couldn't make sense of it—he held me so tightly, and yet his eyes were so guarded. The signals he exuded were muddled and baffling. I couldn't begin to make sense of them, and part of me feared doing so.

After Archie had warned Jessamine about the wolves and Victor, he asked to speak to Carine. They discussed at length how they would go about assuaging Charlie.

"You'd better call him early," Archie advised, seeing Beau's father taking drastic measures to locate his missing son in the morning if he hadn't heard.

"Of course. I will," Carine promised him. "But… Are you sure this is the only way? Surely, we can put Edythe in a better light…"

She wasn't happy about blaming me for all that had occurred—despite the fact that it all _had_ been my fault.

They decided it would be reasonable to assume that Beau would have come to visit me in Southern California, where we'd supposedly moved. As for why Charlie hadn't been made aware of his presence sooner, Carine would claim she and Earnest had been out of town for the weekend. When they'd returned to find Beau on our living room couch, she would tell Charlie she'd questioned us at length, to no real absolve.

When that didn't work, she'd made Beau's homecoming her utmost, highest priority, and decided to call Charlie as soon as a reasonable hour presented itself.

Carine was loathsome to play the infuriated parent, but Archie was able to convince her it would be the only way we could go about things without having to face the unanswerable questions Charlie would demand of us.

When their call ended, the plan was clear. It would not lessen Charlie's anger, of course, but it would cover all the bases that needed to be covered.

The most loathsome part of the plan was knowing Beau would be punished for the singular, bravest thing he'd ever done in his life. I wish there was a way I could take all of the blame, but I didn't think I'd be so lucky.

When Beau got up to use the bathroom halfway through the flight—anxious and throwing continuous glances over his shoulder at me as he made his way to the back of the cabin—I got up to sit beside Archie.

For a minute I just stared at him, not knowing how to begin. How could I tell him how sorry I was, how thankful I was for his willingness to save me? Would I be so selfless, so brave, to leave my mate behind in order to save him, at the risk of my own life, if it were _his_ life in jeopardy? It only took me a fraction of a second to realize that I would. Picturing Archie in my place, intent on ending his life in a puff of smoke, was too painful to imagine.

When I only regarded his face, he smiled softly and said, "It's okay, and you're welcome."

I shook my head. "Archie… There are no words…"

"Shh," he said, pulling me by the shoulders into a tight hug. "You don't have to say it."

"I should have listened to you," I insisted, my voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt, "You were right—when you said I wouldn't be able to stay away. Next time I'll listen—I promise."

Archie chuckled softly. "I'm holding you to that."

We sat in silence for less than five seconds.

"You know, this all could have been avoided if you'd called _me_ after you talked to Royal."

I felt my teeth clench, the familiar roil of fury gnawing at my chest. _Royal._ This was one person who didn't deserve my remorse, or my apologies… Why would someone, especially your own sibling, call you over two dozen times to rub the death of your mate in your face?

He was the one person I owed absolutely _nothing_ , and if it weren't for the love I had for El, knowing how much it would hurt her if something happened to him, I would…

"Hey," Archie interjected, suddenly squeezing both my hands in his. "I see you fracturing the seat's armrest in three seconds. Whatever's on your mind, it can't be worth the destruction of public property…"

He smirked playfully at me, but I could see the concern in his eyes.

I sighed through my teeth. "It's just… Nothing. You're right. I should have called you. But I wasn't… Myself by then. I was… Lost, and couldn't think straight…"

"I get it," he said, "You couldn't go on without him—and I don't blame you."

The sound of running water from the restroom sounded, and the antiseptic fragrance of soap preceded Beau's heady scent. He gathered me back into his arms the minute he sat down, for which I was thankful. I settled my head on his shoulder, and timed my breaths with his.

No… Royal was the one person who did not deserve my apologies. But Beau… Beau deserved more apologies than I could give him…

Words evaded me—there was too much to beg forgiveness for… Forgiveness I didn't even deserve in the first place, so why should I ask for such a thing?

 _Forgiveness for failing to stop Victor…_

 _For giving him cause to leap to his death from a cliff…_

 _For, in all intents and purposes, throwing him to the wolves…_

 _For bringing him to the blackest hole of immortality, in the heart of Volterra, and risking his life in such a dire, inescapable way…_

 _For doing the unthinkable, for lying in the worst possible way, for breaking his heart… For causing him to believe I no longer wanted him…_

Alas, cowardice was as formidable a force as ever, and I was prevented from speaking the words, for fear of his rejection.

Instead, we sat silently, in companionship.

I was glad when he ate the provided airline meal without complaint or hesitation. I didn't know how long it had been since he'd last eaten, and I gave Archie a glare as Beau nearly swallowed his buttered roll in its entirety.

 _We were a little busy,_ he retorted.

Beau's stubbornness apparently did not relent as, on our connecting flight from Atlanta to Seattle, he flagged down the flight attendant for another Coke. His valiant effort was indomitable. I couldn't deny that.

But by the time we landed at SeaTac, the mid-morning sun hidden behind a haze of clouds, he was all but sleepwalking. His eyes were bloodshot, his movements languid and slow.

We were the first off the aircraft, and I kept my arm around Beau's waist. He rested most of his weight on me as we made our way toward the terminal where my family waited. I gripped him tightly, slowing my pace as we neared them—knowing, even without the use of Archie's foresight, that as soon as we got Beau home, I would be sent away.

Archie, alas, would not be much use to me at the moment, anyway. He'd abandoned all clairvoyance in favor of the present moment. I read clearly in his thoughts when his eyes landed on Jessamine, standing just a little closer than the rest of our family.

We separated as he sped ahead to greet her, Beau and myself hanging back.

They did not embrace, they did not kiss. They merely locked fingers—barely, just the tips of their smallest and ring fingers linking like a chain—and gazed into each others' eyes. This did not cull their adoration, however. Jessamine absorbed every molecule of affection that Archie poured out for her, harnessed it, and exuded it back to him, double-fold.

Around us, couples embraced and kissed, affected by my sister's momentary lack of discipline over her gift.

Beau, not immune to her affect either, tightened his arm around me, and pressed his face into the top of my head.

When we reached my parents, standing off to the side in the shadow of a large pillar, Earnest threw his arm around Beau's shoulders.

"Thank you, Beau—so much." _Thank you for rescuing my little girl…_ "I don't think we'll ever be able to repay you."

Then he turned to me, pulling me into a tight, fierce embrace. _I suffered a great deal, thinking we'd lost you…_ "You are in big trouble, little lady." He pulled back, keeping my shoulders, and appraised me with as fatherly a look as he could summon, but his voice was thick with emotion, and his eyes sparkled with prisoned tears.

I could only hug him with one arm, entirely unwilling to let Beau go, but I squeezed him back. "I'm sorry, Dad," I said, "Am I grounded for life?" I pulled back, laughing a little at my own joke.

Earnest narrowed his eyes at me. "Nearly—and that's an awful long time for you."

Carine stepped forward, drawing us both into a group hug.

"I'm so glad to have you both back home, and safe." She pulled back, her eyes on my face first— _You're staying home, now. And going hunting at your first convenience._ —and then Beau's. _Such valiance, such bravery…_ "Thank you, Beau. We are entirely in your debt."

Truly, she considered him as much a part of our family as the rest of her children.

Beau shook his head. "S'noth…n…" He staggered on his feet, sagging with exhaustion, and I tightened my grip on him, preventing him from collapsing to the floor. It took him a long time to open his eyes after blinking.

"We'd better get him home," Earnest said as he slung Beau's other arm around his neck for support. Without even a second thought about how appetizing Beau smelled, he helped me—purely for onlookers' sake—through the airport terminal.

 _He looks awful,_ Earnest thought, peeking sideways at me as we headed toward the exit. I nodded once, grim-eyed. _Don't think you're getting off easy, either,_ he added, noting my onyx eyes, and the bruises under my eyes. Between us, Beau slouched in exhaustion, his head lolling as he quickly surrendered to the fatigue.

As always, on the same page, behind us, Carine worried, _Neither of you appear well…It's clear… You need each other._

She'd already made the call to Charlie, advising him that we were on our way, and he was waiting for us.

New thoughts intruded now, as we drew closer to the parking garage.

 _Please, Edy, listen to his apology. He only wanted you home—he saw how much I missed you; and God, did I miss you. You scared the hell out of your big sister pulling such a stupid stunt. His intentions were only good, believe me. You know Royal would never want to see you even_ close _to the Volturi…_

It wasn't until we arrived at the car that Beau even realized El and Royal were waiting for us. Beau started, his eyes popping halfway open. I stiffened as he startled under my arm, ready to unleash the entirety of my fury on my brother.

Earnest sensed my preparedness and reached his hand across Beau's back to touch my shoulder. _It was just a misunderstanding,_ he thought.

"Be nice," he urged, his voice low and tenacious, "He feels terrible."

"He _should_ ," I snapped, fixing a baleful glare on my brother, who leaned so casually against the sedan, his arms folded over his chest, it infuriated me. Part of my mind catalogued his hunched shoulders, his downcast gaze, the way he seemed listless against the car instead of smug, but I didn't pay that part much mind.

El stepped forward to defend her husband, but to all of our surprise, Beau spoke.

"Don' worry 'bout 't." His words were garbled with exhaustion. Only _Beau_ would let such senselessness off the hook without a single question.

"Let him try and make up for it," Earnest urged. "You go with them. Carine and I will ride with Archie and Jessamine."

 _It wasn't anyone's fault,_ Carine added as she took Earnest's hand, _It's over now, in the past. We're all home and safe where we belong._

I didn't relax my aggravated, stiff stance—finding it hard to believe Royal's demure, apologetic musings.

"C'mon, Edythe," Beau murmured, "Let's go."

I huffed in defeat. I could not deny Beau's requests, and he really did need to sit down.

I towed him toward the car, climbing into the backseat with him. Beau leaned his head back against the seat, and I was glad to see his eyes were finally closed. El and Royal climbed in the front, and the engine purred to life.

Beau's thumb, which had been rubbing ceaseless circles into the back of my hand, slackened, and I knew he had finally given in to the slumber.

In the passenger seat, El's hand in his, Royal turned sideways so he could see us. He had the entirety of his apology scripted out in his head, and he began: "Edythe."

"I know." I didn't want to hear the pre-formed words.

He accepted my immediate acceptance of his apology, and moved on. Made uncomfortable and awkward, he cleared his throat. "Beau?"

I glared at Royal for waking him, but he didn't intercept my anger.

Beau's eyes opened, startled, for barely a moment. "Uh, yeah?"

"I'm… Sorry," Royal said, his voice low and rough with embarrassment and shame, "For everything. Thank you… For going to save my sister."

A moment passed. Then, "N'prob…" Another couple of beats and then he added, "S'more… My faul'… I'm the one—" There was a conglomeration of indecipherable mumbling, "—damn cliff… S'treme spsh…" More intelligible gibberish.

El stifled her laughter with her hand, and I glared at her. _I'm sorry, Edy, but he sounds inebriated…_ "Sounds like sleep talk to me, Roy… Maybe try again when he's awake…" Then she couldn't help but giggle.

"M'wake," Beau slurred, barely conscious, as he head drooped and slid to rest on top of mine.

"Let him sleep," I chided, warmed by his closeness.

Before we were off of airport property, Beau's pulse and breathing slowed to the steady rhythm of what it took on when he slumbered. I was surprised by how familiar it sounded, comforting.

 _He's not going to snore, is he?_ El teased, winking at me in the rearview to deflect my hostility.

After I was sure Beau was out cold, I asked quietly, "Have you come across Victor's scent yet?"

"Not yet," Eleanor said, "But it was pouring rain when we got in yesterday. Didn't miss the stench of those flea-bitten dogs, though." She wrinkled her nose. "Over by Beau's house."

I groaned, unduly reminded of just how close he'd become with one of the young girls.

"What?" El wanted to know.

"It seems," I said on an exasperated sigh, "That we aren't the only monsters Beau is interested in."

Eleanor knit her brow in confusion.

"Beau's made friends with one of the wolf girls."

Eleanor tried to stifle her laughter, but didn't do a very good job.

Beau shifted, disturbed, but not woken.

"That's… Unfortunate," she snickered.

"It's not funny," I said through gritted teeth. Unerring, formidable anxiety, and something else—jealousy?—rose up in me at the thought of the wolf girl. I wouldn't know how deep their relationship went until I either met the girl face-to-face—which was unlikely; we had a treaty in place for a reason—or until Beau told me more about her, which was, I thought, even more unlikely.

We briefly discussed the resurrection of the wolf species, and El wondered if these ones were as big as the ones we'd come across years ago, as well as the current hunting opportunities in the area. But, despite my starved disposition, I wasn't interested in a hunt for _blood_.

Victor's vicious face floated to the forefront of my thoughts. He _wouldn't_ get away again. Setting Beau in his vengeful, murderous sights had quashed any hope of mercy for him.

The rest of the ride was spent in relative silence. El and I caught up a bit—she really had missed me, and the guilt was potent acid in my veins. I would have to find a way to make it up to her. She couldn't hide the hint of betrayal she felt at my avoidance of them for so long.

"It had nothing to do with you," I insisted when she began to wonder if she'd played a part in my resistance. "It wasn't any of your faults. None of you would have wanted to be around me. I was… A mess."

"But you would have had our support." She couldn't understand why it had been so hard for me to allow them to love me. "So what if you were a mess?"

I sighed. "Regardless, it won't be happening again."

We reached Forks' town limits in time, and Eleanor's phone rang.

"Pull over on Elm Street," Archie instructed her, "Charlie won't be happy if we all show up at once."

"Okay." Eleanor felt no need to doubt our brother.

Archie sighed as my Volvo rolled to a stop behind us. _This might get ugly._

Careful not to wake Beau, my family switched their respective seats, El and Royal heading for the Volvo with Jessamine and Earnest. Carine and Archie slipped into the front seat of the Mercedes, pulling their doors softly shut behind them.

"Get ready," Archie muttered, "We're in for it."

Carine drove the requisite one street over, and pulled up to the curb in front of Chief Swan's house. It had been so long since I'd last seen the small, white structure. Despite the situation, its square beacons of light beckoned me, blinking as if to say, 'Welcome back.'

I held Beau against me for one more moment, closing my eyes and breathing him in. His fragrance scalded my throat, and I swallowed down the useless flood of venom in my mouth. Each molten swallow seemed to coat the inside of my throat and stomach with resolve, a strange calcification of fortitude. I imagined the blistering in my throat forming a hard, calloused layer—not very different from callouses that formed on the hands of athletes and artists. Both gymnast and sculptor alike fought constant pain and injury in order to attain, to endure, what they loved. I was no different, I figured—and besides, the pain was nothing compared to the reward.

"Edythe," Carine said softly, pulling me from my reverie, "It's time to get him inside."

"Hmm," I murmured without opening my eyes, my nose pressed indulgently to the edge of Beau's jaw. I pulled back very slightly to appraise his face, peaceful in sleep. His warm, languid-looking lips tempted me, but I resisted the urge to brush them with my own.

Instead, I lifted a hand and stroked the shape of his eyebrow, his cheek, his jaw.

"Beau," I murmured softly, hating to wake him. I stroked his face with cool hands, hoping it would help bring him around.

He mumbled incoherently for a moment, his head turning from side to side.

"Beau," I whispered, "It's time to go inside. We're home now."

"Mm… Rather not…" he mumbled, and I couldn't help but smile.

Inside the house, Charlie noted our arrival.

"They're here now—I need to go," he said to whoever was on the other end of the phone and hung up. He watched us through the front window as we climbed out of the car, and his fuming impatience turned to belligerent concern when he saw me hook Beau's limp arm over my shoulders, Archie taking up his other side, and we began to tow his seemingly lifeless body toward the house.

In an instant, he slammed through the front door, face flaming. "Beau!" he bellowed.

Beau's head rolled from side to side as he struggled to open his eyes. "Ch.. Lee…"

"Beau!" Charlie shouted again, stalking down the front walk toward us. The muted tenor of his thoughts was irate, confused and strife with fatherly concern. More than anything, was the concern. "What's wrong? What's going on?" he demanded to know. His cheeks were ruddy, his thinning hair askew.

"He's fine," I assured Charlie, and when his eyes met mine, the rage in his expression intensified. "He's just exhausted."

When he saw us shuffling forward, he stepped forward. Archie saw his intentions, and released his half of Beau to Charlie. As he shrugged under his son's arm, grunting underneath his weight, his anger toward me was clear.

He begrudged me for breaking his son's heart, and for returning him in such a state. He didn't see how Beau could ever take me back—didn't think I deserved his son's attention and devotion. Honestly, I didn't either.

"I've got 'im," he said gruffly, yanking none-too subtly so that I would have to give him away if I wanted to keep up the human pretenses. "You can go now." Before I had put half a foot of separation between us, Beau reached out blindly to grip my wrist, hand clamping down so hard, his knuckles went white.

Tenderness and pain were of equal force inside of me. Soothingly, I rubbed his tight, bleached fingers until they loosened. "It's okay, Beau," I reassured him. Charlie could certainly make mine and Beau's togetherness an obstacle, but only Beau could send me away completely.

"It is _not_ okay," Charlie hissed fiercely under his breath, "This is _so_ not okay!"

"Don' go," Beau slurred, hands reaching blindly for me, but I'd stepped out of their reach for now, as Charlie guided him toward the house. I kept pace with them evenly, and Charlie glared at me the entire way.

He wanted me out of site.

They paused at the door, and Charlie struggled to open the door one-armed. I took the opportunity to lean up and kiss Beau on the cheek.

"I'll see you soon," I whispered so low that only he could hear.

This seemed to assuage him as Charlie finally fumbled the door open and dragged his son inside. Beau gazed blearily at me over his shoulder, and I was still waiting there on the front porch, when Charlie practically dragged him around the corner toward the stairs.

.

 **A/N:** In the original Twilight universe, Demetri (Didymus's male counterpart) is the one who holds the gift of tracking. For sake of 'shortening things up', I gave it instead to Fern. Just to make things easier.

Next one's a big one! I hope you're all prepared! :P

See you next time!


	16. Supplication

**A/N:** By pure chance, "Spanish Sahara" by Foals started playing on my playlist during the initial part of this chapter, and it just suited it so perfectly. So if you'd like… Give it a listen while you read :)

Oh, and by the way—WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?! How are we so close to the end already?

.

"Drop me off here," I said to Carine when we rounded the corner.

She pulled over to the curb and gazed at me over her shoulder. Her eyes were pensive, her thoughts troubled over how much trouble Beau would be in, and the anger Charlie had felt toward me.

"He'll forgive us," Archie sighed, head resting on his hand, elbow propped on the window. He wasn't happy to be in Charlie's bad books. "Eventually."

I turned toward the door. The separation from Beau was getting to me, clawing at my psyche with a vengeance.

"Oh," Archie said suddenly, his sullen tone brightening, "I guess we'll see you later."

I paused, focusing on the vision of Beau and I careening through the forest and across the clearing toward our house. The time was late, sometime after midnight. And then, as always, there was a flash of the infuriating image of an immortal Beau.

"Will you," I observed, feeling my jaw set. I was annoyed, of course, by what was surely to come. But I would find a way around it all, I was sure.

Besides, that didn't matter right now. The only thing that did, was that I see Beau as soon as possible.

"Edythe," Carine interjected as I stepped out onto the damp sidewalk.

I turned back to look at her before shutting the door.

 _It's good to have you back._

I smiled a little. "I'm happy to be back."

I let the door fall shut, probed the surroundings for any attentive thoughts and, finding none, leaped the rooftops, finding myself directly in front of Beau's house. Quickly, I took to the cover of trees rimming their property.

Inside, Charlie carried a glass of water up the stairs, setting it on Beau's end table. He hesitated in the middle of the bedroom floor, and I focused all my attention on his filmy, blurred mind.

I sucked in a sharp breath, the site of Beau's barren room stunning me.

All personality had been stripped from the walls and surfaces, leaving only the bare essentials. On his desk sat the stationary, decrepit PC. There was nothing else on its surface.

The bureau across the room stood vacant. Its top drawer had been left open, the corner of a white t-shirt peeking out, a text book and binder—the contents of the backpack he'd brought, I assumed—scattered on the floor—evidence of his hasty departure to rescue me from my foolish suicide attempt. But once those things were corrected, there would be nothing left to allude to the fact that Beau lived here.

His posters and portraits had been stripped from the walls.

His bookcase was entirely empty. Where had all of his books gone?!

The thought alarmed me—all of his well-loved, tattered paperbacks were nowhere to be seen, as well as the CD player on top of the shelf. Everything that had made Beau himself—apparated.

I had _not_ erased my existence in my stubborn attempt to save him—I'd erased _his_ …

Charlie crossed toward the door, pulling it open. In doing so, a bright shaft of light from the hallway fell across the bed, and Beau's face.

He moaned belligerently, rolling over amongst the wayward sheets. Charlie paused.

"So bright," Beau said, "Edythe—look at me."

Guilt dropped like a lead weight into my stomach.

Charlie let the door click shut behind him on the way out, and then went downstairs in search of food. Overhead, the sky was darkening, day making its way into evening.

"No, no," Beau mumbled, tossing again, "Edythe, don't…"

I was about to leave my perch in my tree and go to him, when I sensed another presence in the forest with me.

 _I won't berate you, because I know you already feel guilty enough._

Jessamine broke through the ferns and moss, tilting her head to gaze at me, poised in the tree above her.

 _But I think you and I need to at least discuss things. You need to know what I went through._

I dropped to her side, my descent to the forest floor silent.

"You almost got him killed," she nearly whispered, "Do you know how that would have destroyed me?" The pain flooded from her, an emotive tidal wave that crashed over me, thickening the guilt and shame.

"Yes, I do," I murmured, shaking my head. "But I never asked him to come after me. That was his own doing."

Jess's eyes flashed with anger. "Of course he did. Archie loves you. Any of us would have done the same, if we were in his shoes."

"I tried to protect him—all of you."

"You didn't do a very good job of it."

Despite her promise not to berate me, her guard was slipping—the intensity of her fury leaking through the cracks of her ill-formed dam. She was more angry than I had known.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, "I never meant to put his life at risk—do you think I would have gone to them if I'd known he would follow me?"

"I don't know—would you have?" she demanded.

I wanted to say no. I wanted to be so selfless. And I probably would have held off, until I could distract my family enough to get away from them again. The thought of continuing to endure in the inescapable blackness made me cold.

"I thought Beau was _dead_ , Jess. I couldn't live without him."

She felt the desolation of the heartbreak and grief I'd felt, and she couldn't deny my claim.

"I know," she finally said after a long minute of silence, "But you have to acknowledge the pain you caused us as well. I'm glad to have you back, sister—truly, I am—but you hurt all of us by leaving, too."

"How many times can I say it, Jess? I'm _sorry_!"

But she wasn't listening now, caught up in her own memories of the past. I watched them play through her mind like a film reel.

 _A flicker of cherry-paneled walls, a vista of snow and ice out the wide, A-frame window. They were with the Denali clan._

 _On the floor between Jess, El, Tanvir and Kirill was a half-finished game of_ Catan _. Kirill was taking his turn when Archie, across the room in conversation with Royal and Ian, made a strange choking sound._

 _Jessamine turned toward the sound he'd made and immediately recognized the blank horror on his face. The shock rolled through her, momentarily leaving her blind and deaf, before the terror spiked through her like an icy lance. Archie's emotions were unguarded, pure and potent, and she had always felt his more deeply than that of any of the others'._

 _She was at his side in less than half a second, gripping his hands. His eyes remained wide, blank, not seeing her face in front of him._

 _"Archie," she said, and lifted her hands to his face, "Archie, what is it?"_

 _Unexpectedly, Archie's legs crumbled from beneath him, and he fell to his knees on the floor. Jessamine lowered herself with him, stroking his face, his shoulders, trying to soothe him any way she could as the nightmare played out in his mind._

 _"Beau!" he shouted, the sound a wrenching from the pit of his stomach, "Don't!" Blindly, he reached out, flailing at empty air, coming up empty. "NO! You IDIOT!"_

 _The pain, the terror, it only intensified, coursing through her body as if Kirill had laid his electric palms on her back. She shook Archie, gently at first._

 _"Archie, love. Come back to me."_

 _Archie shook his head blankly, still blinded by his foresight. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," he rambled, his eyes wild, searching for what she could not see, "Where are you?" Archie swore. "Where ARE you?"_

 _Jessamine shook him more forcefully. "Archie—let it go! Come back!" she shouted now, because the tenor of heavy concern was weighing on her like a physical force. Earnest's hands on her shoulders only intensified the fear._

 _She shook him again. "Archie, please," she begged, and lifted her hands to cup his pale face once more, "Please come back."_

 _His head bowed, shaking slowly back and forth. "Where are you?" he whispered, again and again._

 _Jessamine curled herself to her husband's chest, holding him tightly._

He's never been trapped in a vision this long, _she thought fearfully when two, five, and then seven minutes passed in total silence._

 _Finally, Archie broke free of the black realms with a sharp intake of air._

 _"Archie!" she cried, relieved, throwing her arms around his shoulders._

 _An anguish, so sharp, so cruel, filled him so completely, that Jessamine began to sob—not knowing what she was crying for._

 _"Oh, Archie, Archie," she gasped, "What is it? What's wrong?"_

 _His head tilted forward until it pressed against her shoulder, and his arms encircled his wife, pulling her tightly to him. "He's gone," he said numbly, and then with more feeling, "Beau's gone."_

 _Behind her, she heard Carine gasp, and she felt Earnest's numb disbelief._

 _"Gone?" he repeated, "As in…?"_

 _Archie lifted tormented, molten eyes to look at his father over his wife's head. "He's dead. He jumped off a cliff… He never came out of the water."_

 _Around her, the family's loaded shock and grief added more unbearable weight to the already tenacious hold on Jessamine's sanity._

 _Eleanor swore._

 _"No…" Earnest said, stepping forward toward the couple still huddled on the floor._

 _"Why?" Carine demanded. Jessamine didn't have to look up to see the anguish in her mother's face. It came in droves, poring over her like a tsunami. "Can't something be done?"_

 _"It's too late, Carine," Archie insisted, "It'll happen in just a couple hours. There's no way we can get to him in time. Besides, he won't surface…" A wordless howl of rage-filled grief escaped him, striking Jessamine so succinctly; she collapsed into him, underneath the pain. "Beau, you IDIOT!" Archie shouted into empty air._

"Replicating your emotions for me isn't necessary," I insisted of the sister I was sure was attempting to berate me in her own way. "I already felt all the grief, concern, shock, and more. Don't you think I know that?"

"All of this pain…" Jessamine spoke softly, her gaze fixed on the bracken of the floor, halfway here, and still halfway trapped in her memories, "All of it could have been avoided, if you'd only listened to Archie."

"I thought you supported my decision!" I cried, "You supported my leaving!"

"To protect Beau," she clarified, lifting her eyes to my face, "If I had known it would cause everyone else so much pain, I never would have agreed to it."

 _"Who's gonna call her?"_

 _It had been silent for several minutes, and I knew this one could only know from reading someone else's memory. Jessamine and Archie were still slumped on the floor, but our family had gathered closer now, some of the shock fading._

 _Carine realized immediately whom Royal was speaking of. "We need to get things in order before we let her know."_

 _"She'll overreact," Archie confirmed, sucking in a sharp breath of pain and terror. "No. We can't tell her right now."_

 _"She has a right to know." Royal's voice was tenacious, almost angry. "She'll have to come home then, she'll…"_

 _"No," Archie snapped, lifting his eyes to his brother's face. "She can't know yet. Believe me."_

 _The emotional atmosphere shivered with Archie's potent fear. Jessamine brushed a hand soothingly across his chest._

The memory faded again, and Jessamine shook her head hollowly.

 _And then… As if the grief and pain was not enough… You went and exposed us to the Volturi…_

"I'm beginning to feel like this isn't quite the sisterly conversation you had in mind."

Jessamine's sharp, hot eyes flicked to my face, her anger bursting in an exorable cloud across the space between us, sharpening my own, and I felt my teeth bare.

"You have no idea!" she shrieked, "Of the consequences! If it weren't for Archie…" She trailed off, recalling what he'd told her of the conversation with Sulpicia, and her plans… "You have no idea what you've signed him up for!"

"It's not—"

She interrupted me: "Don't even think of crossing the Volturi, Edythe. They are _not_ to be reckoned with. They will destroy us without a second's hesitation. _All_ of us."

The image was clear—eyes locked with Archie's, a moment before his head was torn from his shoulders. Her pain buckled my shoulders.

 _A cell phone rang in a dark room. Jessamine had been pacing for hours, waiting for Archie's call, and she snapped the phone up to her ear before the first tone had completed._

 _"Archie?"_

 _"Hi, Jess."_

 _"Where_ are _you?" she demanded, "Do you know the hell I'm going through right now?"_

 _"Beau and I are flying out to Edythe—we have to try to stop her, Jess…"_

 _"God, Archie—_ where _? Going where? Stop her from doing_ what? _Please don't tell me you're going to…" She couldn't bring herself to voice her suspicions, though there was a high likelihood they were in the correct place._

 _"Volterra. We're going to Volterra."_

 _"_ No! _" Jessamine shrieked, horror and flagellation clear in her voice. She sank to the floor, barely able to hold the phone to her ear._ She'll get us killed! They'll hunt us all down if they try her as a lawbreaker! _Immediately, she was funneling through her limited options. Only one thing was of priority: To get Archie out of there. "You have to turn around, Archie," she begged her husband, "Don't catch your connecting flight—please. Come back to me. I can't lose you."_

 _"Baby, I have to," Archie insisted, his voice low and calm and collected—nothing like how Jessamine felt in the moment. "I have to try and stop her."_

 _She knew there was no sense arguing. "What's she going to do ?"_

 _"I don't know for sure… She keeps changing her mind. A killing spree through the city, lifting a car over her head in the town square, barreling through the stone walls… Anything that would expose them—she knows Sulpicia would have to respond."_

Jesus Christ, they'll obliterate her without hesitation! And anyone who gets in their way! _The terror rose inside her, anew, a fresh wave. "Archie—Archie. Please don't go after her. They'll think you're affiliated—you'll be killed, too. Please, Archie,_ please. _Don't do this—I'm coming—" She suddenly decided, "I'll come help you. Maybe we can catch her before she even arrives in Volterra—"_

 _"No, love, you can't do that," Archie murmured, his voice low and infuriatingly soothing._

 _"Eleanor thinks we can catch her before she causes any trouble," she continued._

 _"Tell Eleanor no."_

 _"I can't—she and Royal are halfway to Fairbank already—"_

 _"What? No—you've got to bring them back."_

 _"How else can we stop her?!" She could hear the hysteria in her own voice, but was entirely unable to reign it in._ They'll kill you! _She wanted to scream,_ I can't lose you! Don't leave me!

 _"Think about it, Jess," Archie insisted, "You know what'll happen if she sees any one of us."_

 _The realization struck home. "You're sending Beau in to get her."_ Edythe can't sense him. Of course, _she thought numbly._

 _"Our only shot is if she sees Beau first," Archie confirmed._

 _Jessamine wasn't an idiot—she knew Archie wouldn't let Beau go into Volterra without cover. The bleakness in his tone had been apparent the entire time, and a small sob caught in her throat._

 _"Come back to me," she begged him, "Please, baby, you have to make it back to me."_

 _Archie's voice was thick and low with emotion. "I'm going to do what I can… But our chances aren't good. Make sure Carine's ready for the worst."_

The worst, _she thought breathlessly. "What about me?" she breathed, "How can I be prepared?" She knew Archie couldn't stand by and do nothing. She knew the love Edythe and her husband shared went deeper than just a regular sibling's bond. He'd been seeing Edythe almost as long as he'd been seeing her, in his visions. She knew Archie had witnessed many deaths—had prevented many, as well, but she couldn't quite bring herself to understand how he would so willingly put himself in harm's way when the chances of escape were so slim—even for his favorite sister._

 _She tried to reign him in once more. "They won't hesitate to kill you, too, Archie."_ How can I go on? _she thought desolately,_ How can I live if he is vanquished?

 _She heard his grim smile through the phone. "Yeah, I know," he said._

 _"Do you?" she demanded, her voice high and shrill with frenzy. "_ Do you _? Tell me how you expect me to live without you if things go awry, Archie. You can't expect me to do it. You know just as well as I do that I can't live without you—just as much as Edythe can't live without Beau." She knew there would be no convincing him, so she did the next best thing she knew how. She cajoled. "Do what you can to stop her, Archie. We all love Edythe dearly, but promise me something—promise me you'll get out. If she's lost, you have to run, you have to escape. Promise me you won't sacrifice your life for him, or even for Beau._ Promise _me."_

 _"Don't worry, I promise," he soothed her, "I'll find a way out. No matter what. I love you, baby."_

 _She buried her face in her knees, knowing he was trying to protect her now. She knew he wouldn't hesitate to lie to her to keep her from going after him. "I can't handle this," she moaned, "I love you so much."_

I couldn't argue with words any longer—that much was apparent. So I did the next best thing. Though I was loathsome to return to those unending, black moments, I opened my memories and my emotions to her.

 _"He's at the funeral…"_ The gruff, husky female voice played in my mind, and I was pulled back into the pit of despair, the moment my sternum cracked open to reveal not my broken and mangled heart, but the total absence of it. In its place, a black hole, vacuuming everything in its path inside.

Nothing. Nothingnothingnothing. Beau was gone, and I was _nothing._

"Edythe." I could feel her hands on my arms, firm and very _there_ , but I could not see her, could not feel her. I wasn't here.

I was lost in the sea of torment. One day, Beau _would_ die, and I would face the emptiness all over again. It had driven me mad once. How could I endure that again?

Around me, whole scenes deleted, blanked out by black ink spots.

"Edythe, stop!" Jessamine begged.

My agony refracted off of her, strengthened and made even more potent.

"Please!"

Nothing… There would be nothing.

Oblivion, in his faceless black cloak, came up to greet me, holding out a bony, fleshless hand.

"Edythe," Beau whispered in his bed across the lawn, "We're not dead."

The world came spinning back into focus, and I teetered, feeling the strangest sense of detachment, of fading, of collapse.

I was on the ground, and Jessamine's arms were around me, pulling me to her.

"Edythe," she murmured, "You're okay." She stroked my hair, funneling peace and comfort into me with as much potency as she could manage. "Shh," she crooned, "It's okay. You're safe, you're here, and so is he."

Feeling, sensation, returned, first as a heartbeat, and then the whoosh of warm air through human lungs. Beau. _Beau._

My hands were tight around Jessamine's arms, and her face was bleached the color of bone, her topaz eyes wild and staring.

I took a breath. "I'm okay… I'm okay," I insisted, releasing her. I'd gripped her so hard I'd torn through her shirt sleeves.

"You're okay," she affirmed, stroking my hair one last time. She appraised me with careful, wary eyes, and I stared back at her, wide eyed, the terror slowly fading in the onslaught of her comforting vibes.

Now she understood. Now we _both_ understood.

.

My feet touched the faded and worn wooden floor of Beau's bedroom. I inhaled fire, and reveled in the burn.

Across the room, hours later, Beau now slept peacefully and silently. I could not resist going to his side. He laid on his side, arm stretched, upturned, across the expanse of bed, as if to invite me in.

Careful not to wake him, I eased in under his arm, and immediately, he clutched me close, sighing contentedly.

"Hi," he breathed, but I knew he was still asleep, his breathing and pulse unchanged.

"Hi," I whispered, unable to battle back the idiotic grin that had made its way across my face. I wanted so badly to reach up and trace the contours of his face, to press my lips to his, to wake him with my mouth on his.

But he needed his sleep, so I resisted, happy to feel the warmth of his arm around my waist, to watch his face, slack and peaceful in slumber.

The next few hours brought on a different kind of torture as I witnessed the nightmares and dreams alike play out through his sleep talking and unconscious expressions.

 _"Archie, hurry…"_

 _"Run, run!"_

 _"Move… Get out of the way…"_

 _"Sorry, Jules…"_

A spike of jealousy lit in my bloodstream, irrational and unexpected. The way he said her name… It grated on my skin like sandpaper against silk. The mongrel, the _dog,_ the… girl who had saved his life, of course. As much as I hated it, I had much to thank her for.

I had been so sure before that I was what he wanted… But had that changed?

Sudden hesitancy and self-doubt had me putting a sliver of distance between us, but I was glad when Beau only reached for me, pulling me close again.

"Mmm," he hummed contentedly.

After that, he lapsed into silence again.

It was after midnight when he finally began to wake, his pulse picking up. He inhaled deeply and stretched, his toes brushing against mine through the coverlet.

He didn't open his eyes, but I knew he was forcing them shut now, rather than sleeping. Black lashes pressed together.

He was awake, but he was resisting… Why?

The suspense was killing me.

"Beau," I whispered softly.

In an instant, his eyes flashed open and fixed on my face, wide and terrified. Immediate castigation, embarrassment and anxiety filled me. I expected him to sit up and shift away from me, or to push me away, but he squeezed his eyes shut again for a too long instant.

When he opened them again, the terrorized surprise was gone, but there was more than enough wariness for the both of us. He regarded my face carefully, intently, his brows slightly furrowed.

What was he _thinking_?

"Beau?" I repeated.

For ages of time, he only stared. Emotion after emotion flitted through his eyes—doubt, recognition, suspicion, wariness, familiarity, adoration, fear.

And then a huff of air escaped his lungs on one great whoosh, and his sweet breath fanned across my face. I barely felt the burn in my throat.

"What's wrong?" I murmured, preparing myself for the onslaught. His inevitable answer could not be good, whatever it was.

I was appalled to see sudden tears glimmer in his eyes as he regarded me once more. His face lost several shades of color, and his lips trembled. Finally, he said, "I'm dead, aren't I?"

The question shocked me so completely that I laughed. The note was a single one, and void of any humor. " _No,_ " I said, "You're definitely not dead."

The confusion was back, and he slowly, stiffly, pushed himself onto his elbow. He took in the surrounding area, and then turned his gaze back on me.

"Then… What?" he demanded, "I'm in a coma or something?"

"No," I repeated, entirely perplexed now, "You're at home, in your bed, entirely awake."

He seemed to process this. "Huh," he said. "So… All of that really happened, then?" There was still doubt there in his eyes, and I wasn't sure if he entirely believed my claim that he was conscious.

I wasn't sure if _I_ was either. All of his vitals pointed toward it being so, but he was obviously very confused.

"If you're referring to 'all of that' as nearly being massacred by a group of totalitarian vampires, then yes, it did."

He took a breath, stretching. He must have decided he was awake now. "What time is it?"

"Just after one-thirty. In the morning."

He cast a shocked glance toward the window I'd left open a crack, looking shocked when he realized it was dark outside.

"You were very tired. You needed the rest," I insisted, "You've been out for just over fourteen hours."

"And you… Stayed." He regarded me again with that careful expression. The discomfiture was a very real force inside me.

"Yes." I regarded him tenderly, the mussed hair on the back of his head, the bleariness in his sharp blue eyes, the wrinkle of his t-shirt. "I stayed." _And I'm never leaving again… If you'll have me._

"And Charlie?"

"Asleep."

He nodded contemplatively. "So—what's the story?"

I felt my eyebrows knit. "Story?"

"Why was I gone for… How long was I gone for, again?"

"Just three days," I clarified. I regarded him carefully, waiting for him to flinch. He didn't. "And, actually, I was hoping _you'd_ have a good explanation."

"Me?"

I nodded.

"I… Got nothin'."

"Hmm. Maybe Archie will come up with something."

"Maybe." He stretched again, and then turned his attention back on me. So far, he hadn't pushed me away or moved himself. That was a good sign, wasn't it? He eyed my hand, laying on the bed between us, for a long moment.

"So," he said suddenly, "What have you been up to?" He feigned casual interest, but it was clear there was an undercurrent of urgency to his question I couldn't quite find a reason for.

"Oh, not much," I hedged.

Something twisted in his expression again, melting into that familiar fear and apprehension.

"Beau?" I leaned forward, concerned again. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing." He plucked at a loose thread on the blanket. "I just thought the real Edythe would have come up with something more creative than that."

The shock was icy. "You're not hallucinating, Beau," I told him. He didn't seem convinced, so I sighed and relented, "I was… Tracking. Or, at least, doing my best at an attempt. Apparently, it is not my forte."

"Oh," he said, and there was something adrift in his tone. "Sounds… Fun. What were you tracking?"

He appraised me with such innocent curiosity, such open trust, that I couldn't lie to him. The words came suddenly, forceful, pouring from me.

"I… I'm so sorry, Beau. You don't know how sorry I am. I owe you so much more than I could ever give you. I didn't realize that you wouldn't be completely safe here. I would never have left if I'd known otherwise—and to think, the entire time—you were in more danger than you've ever been… Without me. It was inexcusable of me to leave you in the face of such peril. If I'd had any idea that Victor—" I snarled the name, "—had been bonded so closely to Joss, I would have tracked him down sooner. And then to realize that he was practically here the entire time… I would have stayed, without question…

Not that I'm attempting to make any sort of excuse for why I left you in the first place. The wolves… The _wolves_! Beau Swan—I was absolutely beside myself when Archie told me what you'd been up to! To think that you'd been left in the hands of such _immature, volatile_ creatures—I can't even fathom what sort of fate would allow—"

"Hey." His sudden, warm, intentional grip on my hand stopped the flow of words. "Stop." His voice was gentle, soft, and as he spoke, the familiar grief surfaced in his eyes. "You can't let all these… Thoughts rule your life. You can't take responsibility for any of this."— _But it_ was _entirely my responsibility! If I'd been here, absolutely none of it would have happened!—_ "If I trip in front of a bus or something, you can't take the blame for that." I cringed. "And you _definitely_ can't go running off to Italy every time you think something bad happened to me."

 _Something bad,_ I mused, _It was not merely 'something bad'. It was the worst_ possible _thing to ever have happened in all of eternity…_

But he was still speaking.

"Even if I had been trying to kill myself when I jumped off that cliff, that would have been _my_ choice, and _not your fault._ I know you take on too much, that you take the blame for everyone else's problems—but you can't let that effect how you live your _life._ I mean… Think of your family, your parents—"

No. It couldn't be. He couldn't possibly think he'd flown halfway around the world, put himself in serious jeopardy of his father's trust, risked his _very fragile, mortal life_ for me, because I felt _blameworthy_! No! It couldn't be!

The fury rose, a consuming flame that I fought to extinguish. It was not the right time to let my hot-headed nature get away from me.

"Beaufort. Martin. Swan."

His fierce expression went blank. "What?"

"Do you honestly believe, for one second, that I went to the Volturi and requested my own demise because I _merely felt guilty?_ "

He blinked, uncomprehending. "Um… Well… Yeah?"

How many times had I insisted he resurrected what human remained of me? That he'd truly and undeniably brought me back to life? He'd given me reason to live, purpose, he was my _entire_ life, and I couldn't quite bring myself to believe the assumption he'd just made.

Caught somewhere between vicious fury and overwhelming affection, I lifted a hand slowly to frame the side of his face. "Beau." I unleashed the full force of my gaze—which couldn't have been as effective as it usually was, seeing as my eyes were blackest night—on him, willing him to believe. "Beau, I asked the Volturi to kill me because I thought you were dead."

I paused, waiting, but he still didn't understand.

So I took a breath and continued on: "Even if I hadn't driven you to leap from that cliff"—I flinched—"I would still have gone to Italy. Clearly, I should have been more careful, double-checked with Archie instead of simply taking Royal's word for it…. But what was I _supposed_ to think—when the girl said Charlie was at the funeral?" By the end of it, my voice had risen to that of exasperated mania.

"So?"

" _SO?_ " I repeated incredulously. "Beau, you really must be an idiot." I said the words with as much tenderness as possible, knowing there had to me an ulterior motive for his confusion. He could not _possibly_ be this blind to my affections. "I thought I'd made this part clear: You're my world. You're my reason for existing. I cannot live in this world, if you're not alive somewhere in it, too."

His brows knit together—not the reaction I was expecting.

"What are you thinking?"

"I am… Confused…" he admitted.

I sighed, and his face went blank for a moment. Of _course_ he would be confused. It made perfect sense to me now. The conflicting signals, the way I'd left him. "I'm so sorry for the way I've hurt you…" He just stared. I lifted my eyes again to his face, leaning up on my elbow, drawing myself closer to his warmth, his pure goodness. His clear blue eyes searched mine, endless in their marvelousness. "I _lied,_ don't you understand? I lied to you that day in the forest. It was the only way you'd let me go. It was agony to do it—more than torture—but I hoped, if you thought I didn't love you anymore, that it would make it easier to move on… But I never _imagined_ you would believe me so easily!" I lamented, "I thought I'd have to lie for hours to even plant a hint of doubt in your head! That you believed me so quickly was the worst thing of all!" The words tumbled quicker now as my thoughts raced, "And for that, I'm _sorry_. I'm sorry for how I hurt you, I'm sorry for leaving, I'm sorry that I lied to you, and that I couldn't protect you from my true nature. I'm sorry."

"I…"

"Beau, how could you? _Really!_ It was so clear in your eyes—that you truly believed every word I'd told you… How _could_ you?" I repeated. "It was the stupidest kind of concept—as if I could ever find purpose in my life without _you_!"

It was only then that I realized I was on my feet, and that I'd been pacing the length of his small bedroom.

"Really, Beau." I whirled on him. "What were you thinking?"

He stared at me, void of expression.

"Say something!"

"I'm dreaming—I have to be."

I maniacal cackle escaped my throat, and I raked frustrated fingers through my hair. "You're _not_ dreaming. You're not dead. You're not in a coma. You are absolutely and completely awake! I don't know how else I can prove it to you!" Sudden inspiration struck me, and I strode forward to the side of his bed, where he was now sitting up, watching me pace. "If I can't convince you with my words, I'll _show_ you that you're awake."

I gripped his jaw between my hands, ever aware of just how soft and breakable he was, and tilted his head back so I had access to his lips. But just before I could press mine to his, his warm hands encircled my wrists.

"Don't," he whispered.

I froze, his barely-breathed word lancing me through with ice. "Don't?" I repeat numbly, wounded.

"Because when I wake up—"

"You're _not_ —"

"—Okay, then. When you _leave_. When you leave, it… It'll be hard enough without… Without this, too."

The sadness was there in his eyes, two limpid pools of it. Suddenly, it all made sense—the contraindicated symptoms he'd displayed on the way home, the guard in his eyes, his reluctance to sleep… Maybe he didn't want my love anymore; maybe he felt too betrayed to ever forgive me. After all, he hadn't said he had exonerated me… What if he _had_ moved on in the time I'd been gone? What if all my efforts at giving him a normal, human life had succeeded… Only to come back and bite me?

"Am I… Am I too late then?" I wondered sadly, releasing his face and straightening to stand in front of him. "You have moved on, then? I always wanted you to, of course—I won't fight you. To do so would be entirely" _insufferable_ "reasonable… Please, Beau. Don't worry about hurting me—just tell me the truth… I only want happiness for you, and I'll do anything to give it to you. So tell me. Do you, or do you not still love me?"

Beau appraised me for half a second, and then frowned at me. "Now who's being the idiot?"

"Just tell me," I pleaded.

"Of course I love you." He said it like it was obvious. Was it? Maybe to him. "I never stopped."

I'm sure I said something, but I was suddenly lost in the sea of redemption, forgiveness and bliss his love bathed me in. It didn't really matter, anyway, because in this moment, as I fell into his arms, vaulting him back onto the bed, words were not needed.

Our lips did the talking our hearts so desperately wanted to express.

Beau's lips parted against mine, and he panted his sweet breath across my mouth and nose. I inhaled, every part of me drowning, consumed, in flames. But the flames were not painful. Instead, they enveloped me in the most perfect of warmths, a precise ninety-eight-point-two degrees.

I was not as careful as I should have been in the face of this impossibility: Still, he loved me. Still, he wanted me. Even more, he'd _forgiven_ me. I combed my fingernails against his scalp, elicited a very tiny noise in the back of his throat that made the muscles deep in my belly clench.

One of his hands fisted in my hair, the other on my waist, pulling me tight to his chest.

His mouth was warm and moist and soft, tantalizing, enchanting… The elixir of taste was incomparable.

Then he yanked his face away, gasping for breath. I leaned over to rest my cheek against his heaving pectoral, listening to the sound of his pounding, erratic heart.

Alive.

Well.

Whole.

It communicated everything I felt into comprehending concepts. His heart was mine. Each beat marked the passage of time for the both of us. We were one, even now.

I sighed serenely. "Beautiful." I waited for his breathing to slow before I broached the next subject. "Oh, and by the way, I have no intentions of leaving you ever again—and I know you may not quite believe me, but I will make you see, someday, somehow. What I did is unpardonable, but I want you to understand…" I lifted my head, resting my forearm on his chest so I could look into his face. "The _only_ reason I left was because I wanted you to be happy, safe. I truly thought such a thing was only a possibility in my absence. I can see now I was wrong. I'm not strong enough to stay away from you—I don't know why I ever thought I was. Regardless, I can make this promise: Nothing can separate me from you now."

Beau grinned, folding one arm behind his head, resting the other against my back. "Yeah," he said, "You were so wrong."

I narrowed my eyes at him, mostly playful. "Don't make me regret being vulnerable with you."

He smiled again, and I rested my head back to his chest, content just to lay with him in the quiet, only his even breaths marking the passage of time.

"So," he finally said as he played with my hair, "You never did tell me. What were you tracking, exactly?"

I sighed. "I was looking for Victor, actually. As I said, my tracking abilities are far, _far_ below average, and I traced him all the way to Texas before he threw me for a loop and sent me to Brazil on a false lead. In actuality, he was _here_." The last word escaped my lips somewhere between a groan and a growl. "I wasn't even in the same _continent_!" I moaned. "And all the while, _worst_ than my worst possible conceived anxieties—"

"Wait, wait." Beau sat up suddenly, and I leaned back to gaze at him. His eyes were fierce, even wild, again. "You were hunting _Victor_?"

I appraised his stricken expression for a moment. "Why do you not sound happy with that?"

His lips parted and then closed a few times. "That's… It's… I…" I waited patiently for him to regain sense. "That's _insane_ ," he finally blurted. "What were you thinking?"

A low, vicious snarl built in my chest. "He will _pay_ for what he and Joss did to you. He will _pay_ for wanting to get his sick hands on you. I will make _sure_ of that."

"And how are you going to do that? If you're not going anywhere." He lifted his eyebrows at me, knowing he had me caught.

A very unladylike word slipped from my lips, under my breath.

"Besides," he added, his tone almost conversational, "There's really no point. I think Jules" _Jules,_ I thought. He has a _nickname_ for her? "and her friends scared him off pretty good. I'd be surprised if he came back… Besides." He paused, and I heard him swallow thickly. "I've got bigger problems than Victor."

I considered, hoping he'd finally seen the danger his little dog friend possessed. "You're right—the werewolves _are_ an issue."

To my surprise, Beau snorted a disbelieving note of laughter and rolled his eyes. "I wasn't talking about Julie," he clarified, as if it were ridiculous to suggest she was dangerous. My stomach churned like a pool full of acid. Was it jealousy of their friendship—or what I _hoped_ was only friendship—or disbelieving anger at the fact he couldn't see the peril she really, truly posed? "I'm sure a group of girls aren't going to cause a lot of problems anytime soon." He paused, and then his voice was suddenly serious. "I'm talking about the Volturi."

I smiled against his t-shirted chest. I didn't think he could comprehend how their millennia-old minds worked. "I wouldn't worry about that. They'll get around to you when they get around to you. I wouldn't be surprised if you don't cross their minds for another decade or so."

Beau stiffened.

My head jerked up, sudden possessiveness coursing through me. "They won't touch you, Beau," I soothed, "I won't let them."

He shook his head. "That's not what I'm worried about."

I grasped his face in my hands. He was practically rigid with stress. "What is it, then?"

"A _decade_?" he whispered tersely. "You're gonna let me get that _old_?"

"Of course I am. Old and wrinkled and happy and _human_."

He frowned at me. "But…"

"Believe me, Beau—there are ways to keep Sulpicia distracted. There are ways to evade the Volturi."

"I thought we had a deal," he insisted, and there was sudden indignant outrage in his voice. I sat up, surprised at the color of his emotion.

"Deal?" I repeated, confused.

"Archie… Archie promised! He said he'd change me! I'm not waiting till I'm _middle-aged_ to become a vampire! What would people think of me at that age—they'd think I was your uncle, or some creepy old dude—"

I shook my head. "Like I said—there are ways to evade. You could continue to age, to grow, to mature. You wouldn't have to give anything up—don't you see?—you wouldn't _have_ to sacrifice your soul! You don't have to _change_ for me, Beau. I love you, and _want_ you, just the way you are. I don't want you to have to give anything up for me."

He didn't look quite as touched by the sentiment as I thought he would. "Wait—you're thinking _more_ than thirty? Like… Sixty?"

"And beyond, if we can swing it. If I have my way, you'll never be changed."

This left him speechless. "But… But then I'll _die_ ," he finally said.

"Yes," I acknowledged, "And I'll follow right after."

Beau raked a hand through his hair and shook his head vigorously. "No," he said, and then more vehemently, " _No_."

"What?" I asked when he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

He didn't answer me, fumbling in the dark for something on the floor.

"Beau—what are you doing?" I watched as he finally located his sneakers, pulling them on. "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Obviously. Did you have a destination in mind?"

"Your house."

" _My_ house? Why?"

He shrugged. "I have my reasons." He began to peruse his dresser and desk surfaces.

"What are you looking for now?" I asked on a sigh.

"My keys."

"Your keys."

"How else am I going to get to your house?"

Finally, I stood, snatching them from the bookshelf. I dangled them in the air. When he reached for them, I hid them behind my back.

"Tell me why you're so adamant on visiting my house first."

Undeterred by my theft, he strode to the window and pulled it open. He glanced out, trying to hide his apprehension. I watched as he measured the distance between the second-story window and the nearby tree.

I sighed. "Beau, stop." I crossed the room to him, and put my hands on his shoulders—partially to restrain him. I didn't know how serious he was about jumping from the window. If he'd leaped from a cliff, _surely_ a story or two was nothing. "If you're so intent on going, I'll give you a ride," I relented, "Can you please just tell me _why_ we're visiting my family at one-thirty in the morning, the eve of your millennia-long grounding?"

He turned to appraise me, folding his arms across his chest. "If you're so intent on hiding and running and evading, effectively putting the rest of your family at risk too, I think they deserve a say in it."

"A say," I repeated, "In what?"

"Whether I stay human or not. I'm putting it to a vote." And then he smiled a smile so charming, so debonair, so sweet and innocent and pure, I could deny him nothing.

.

 **A/N:** I have the next chapter pre-written, so we'll see how quickly we get it up. The only stumbling block I'm facing is the Epilogue, trying to come up with the gender-swapped version of proposals and things. And, though I'm not _against_ Edythe proposing… I want it to be Beau. (Yes, Edythe, I'm getting caught up in 'antiquated gender-roles') But I want her to have the rite, the privilege, the gift, that every woman should have—that outright show of proof that _he loves you_ and _he chose you_. Annnyway. Before I get too sappy, Imma cut it off here ;)

Please leave your thoughts in the reviews, and I'll see you for the next one! xo


	17. Jilted

**A/N:** Hey, there! Was it just yesterday that I posted? Hmm, you must be mistaken… ;)

.

I did _not_ approve.

But I gave him what he wanted, nonetheless.

We careened through the darkened forest, each pound of Beau's heart reverberated across my back and through my chest, making it feel as if I, myself, had a heartbeat again. With each of his limbs encircling me, I felt at ease, vitalized.

Around me, the forest took on new life. I'd missed this terrain—its mossy trunks and boulders, the thickness of the jade-green foliage. _This_ forest was nothing like the jungles I'd frequented in the last few months.

The smell of Beau's blood was sweetened by the adrenaline in his system as we ran, and I inhaled it greedily, indulgently.

As we sprinted past them, the trees and fronds waved like old friends. _Welcome back,_ they seemed to say, _We missed you._

The moon seemed to shine impossibly bright overhead, fighting its way, tooth and nail, through the canopy of trees. Like a smile, it touched my skin, and my soul.

I grinned, perfectly content, and pushed my legs faster—though I had no real reason to. I could feel Beau's chin on my shoulder, his arms around me. As I planted my foot and soared over the river, his lips touched the edge of my cheek.

"Thank you," I murmured, "Have you finally decided you're awake?"

Beau laughed, the sound a bright, clanging bell. It brought a smile to my own face. His joy, his happiness—it was _my_ joy, _my_ happiness. He didn't answer, however, and as we drew closer to the house, I slowed to a walk.

Beau hopped from my back, taking my hand as we strolled at a humans' pace toward the house. I examined his face as we strode along, recognizing the wariness that was still, somehow, present in his smile.

I sighed, disappointed. "You still don't trust that I'll stay, do you?" I guessed.

"It's not you I don't trust," he responded, glancing down at me.

I frowned, confused. "Who don't you trust?"

Beau shrugged. "Myself, I guess. My own emotions."

This confused me even further, and I stopped now, tugging him to a halt. "Please, Beau. You're driving me insane. Tell me what you mean, before I go mad?"

"I guess… A part of me doesn't believe it. That you'll stay. But not because I don't trust _you_ … Because I don't… I mean—look at me. I'm an ordinary guy, with an ordinary life. And you," he gestured to me, "Are so… Not… Ordinary."

"I'm not going anywhere," I insisted.

"It's clear you love me—I just don't think I can love you the way you love me. And that makes me feel pretty darn… Lacking."

I crossed in front of his path, watching the moonlight cast playful shadows on his beautiful visage. "Beau," I said softly, reaching up to touch his face, "There is something supernatural in you—not quite human. At least in your heart. I have never seen a human with so much compassion, so much kindness, so much selflessness. You are strong—stronger than I ever gave you credit for. And human frailty aside, you're the strongest person I've ever met…"

"I haven't felt very strong lately," he mumbled under his breath, and I wondered if I wasn't meant to hear that. "Things got… Strange, while you were gone. I was… Pretty broken up about it. I felt like I was drowning, like my ears were plugged or something. And I couldn't hear clearly, or see very well… But you were pretty apparent the whole way through."

I watched him carefully as he spoke.

"Some part of me, my subconsciousness or whatever, believed the whole time that you cared… That's probably the reason for the hallucinations."

I froze, stunned by the sudden thought of the psychiatric repercussions my leaving could have had on him. He still hadn't admitted to the suicide attempt, but it didn't mean he hadn't been trying in the first place. Didn't they say mental scars went so much deeper than the physical?

 _What have I done to you, poor boy?_ I wondered in horror. "Hallucinations?"

Beau cast me a sheepish smile. "Just you. Just your voice, really. It's… Kind of hard to explain."

"Try me."

"It's… Pretty pathetic." He cleared his throat. "Remember what Archie said—about the extreme sports thing?"

"You jumped off a cliff for sport," I recalled, doubting seriously, more and more, that it _had_ really just been for fun.

"Yeah. Um… And before that? With the motorcycle?"

I stiffened. "Motorcycle?" The word slid between tight lips.

"Uh, oops. Guess I didn't tell Archie that part." He scratched the back of his neck.

"No," I choked, "You didn't."

"Uh…" He laughed nervously, "Well, you see… Doing stupid, reckless stuff like that—it kinda helped me _hear_ you. It was like you were there, trying to stop me from being an idiot—"

"An idiot," I breathed numbly.

"Most of the time, I tried not to think about you, because it hurt too much. But this was different—it was like you were looking out for me again, and it didn't hurt so much. I guess I wonder if… If I always knew… That you still loved me. And that was why I could hear you so well."

I couldn't quite wrap my head around the enormity of it. While I'd been trapped in my own version of mental torment—his face and voice so clear in my own head—unable to escape, he'd been going completely out of his way to bring his own apparitions to fruition.

Not _only_ had he been in danger—the werewolves, Victor—he had unnecessarily piled even _more_ peril on top of what was already too much!

"You… Were putting your life in danger… To hear…"

"Shh, shh." Beau waved his hand at me. "Give me a second here."

I stared at him, wide-eyed, horrified.

For forty two very long seconds, Beau was silent. When he spoke again, his expression was abruptly peaceful.

"I didn't realize it at the time—I thought I knew all my options, but I never saw another possibility… I thought I might be insane, or that my head was somehow protecting me from the pain, for just a few minutes. But I never thought… I never saw…"

" _Beau_."

"Hold on, hold on," he urged. He lapsed into silence again, and then he turned to me, his eyes wide and supremely soft. "You love me."

The obvious serene joy on his face extinguished my anxieties, and filled me instead with a warm, gentle thrill. "Sincerely, I do."

He stood there in front of me, silent. But the reverence with which he'd said the word… It stunned me.

All this time I'd known I would never measure up to the pure praiseworthiness of him. All along I'd known I wasn't good enough for him. But I never saw that he felt as equally undeserving, as ridiculous as the possibility might be. I could see now, that he understood the simple truths: He was my life, my breath, my heart.

I had so arrogantly, so blindly, thought that he could never understand the depth of my feelings for him, that his heart could not contain the capacity of my love, but I was unerringly wrong. He understood it so much better than I could—or ever would be able to.

Not only did his heart have the capacity to love me as deeply as I loved him—but he was even stronger than I. For he had gone on with his life, holding his love for me in his heart while he suffered, all the while loving his friends and family around him, while _I_ abandoned my own family, and isolated myself from them in the pain—like a spineless hermit.

In the moonlight, Beau's luminous eyes shimmered with the depth of his emotion. I didn't need Jessamine's gift to feel the waves of affection and awe pouring from him.

I loved him… And he loved me.

There was nothing truer than that, in this moment.

I reached up on tiptoe, throwing my arms around his shoulders to pull him down to me. The world around us disappeared as our lips touched. The sheer force of emotion tingled in my fingertips, lighting up my entire body.

If our love was a physical force, it would have trembled in the earth underneath our feet.

Finally, I pulled back, giving Beau room to catch his breath. I rested my forehead against his, palms flat against his chest.

"You were far better at enduring than I was, you know," I whispered, my own breath ragged, "You made an effort. You _tried_. You went on with your daily habits, school, work, your life, you engaged with your loved ones. Aside from what I thought was purposefully tracking Victor, I was entirely and completely _incompetent._ It was all I could do to curl myself in a ball and let the agony have its way with me."

Beau didn't say anything, smoothing my hair down my back.

Finally, I inhaled and pulled back. "Shall we?"

I extended my hand to him, and he took it easily, assuredly. We headed across the great lawn together, toward the house where my family was waiting for us.

They'd already gotten to work on restoring it to what it had been when we'd left. Royal had mown the grass, its aroma fragrant and potent in the early morning air.

Inside, my siblings and parents went about their usual tasks, as if they'd never stopped.

Upstairs, in her office, Carine was making arrangements to return to work. Earnest was in the attic, putting the last of the sheets that had covered the furniture in our absence away.

Downstairs, in the living room, Jessamine stood with her hands on her hips, watching Eleanor affix a huge flat-screen TV to the wall where the old one had been. She'd ordered the model from Korea, not yet available in the United States, and as she hung it from the studs, she simultaneously translated the Korean instructions to English.

"Archie said you weren't going to want to set that up till tomorrow," Jess chided.

Eleanor threw a look over her shoulder. "And Archie also saw Beau drown—which _didn't_ happen… I think I'll take my chances."

Jessamine snorted and lifted her hands, palms forward, in surrender. Then she turned, and strode into the dining room where Archie was already waiting at the table, chair tilted back on its hind legs, ankles crossed on the freshly-polished table.

"Still no idea why he's dragging her over here?" she asked, sliding into his lap, perching on the perfect point of balance so that they didn't tip.

"Nope," Archie said, looping his arms around his wife's hips, "Not a clue." But he was suddenly very focused on translating original Arabic literature.

 _Hey-o,_ he thought, acknowledging my presence.

Once inside, I only had to call softly, and everyone gathered.

When we were seated around the dining table, Beau at its head, much to Carine's insistence, she nodded at him.

"You have our full attention, Beau."

 _He wants something you won't give him._ Jessamine was the first to guess at the reason for our gathering. She sampled the air of his emotions, sensing deep-seated resolve underneath a superficial veil of nervousness. _That leaves only two possible options: transformation, or… Physical intimacy._

I glared at her, and she smirked. Jess sent a calming wave toward Beau.

"Okay." He took a deep breath and then slumped his shoulders, no doubt due to the effect of my sister's gift. "So, Archie already told you guys all what happened out there, right?"

"Every last gory detail," Archie assured him.

"Cool," Beau said. "So… Here's the thing. Obviously you guys know that Archie promised the Volturi he'd change me into a vampire. They made it pretty clear they were going to send someone to check up on us, and I know you'll all be punished if I'm not changed soon.

I completely understand if you guys don't want me—I won't force myself on you. But I just thought, because you're all involved now, whether you want to be or not… Well, you deserve a say in the matter."

Earnest shook his head, about to insist we would always include him as part of our family, but Beau pushed on before he could say anything.

"I know what I want, and I think I've made it clear enough that all of you know it, too. I also think you know that Edythe wants none of it. Since we're not going to come to any conclusion on our own" He shot me a quick glare, and El lifted her eyebrows in fascinated amusement "I figured the best way to decide would be to put it to a vote. And I completely understand if you guys don't want me moving in and all—and if that's the case, I'll do my best to protect you all, and go back to Italy to face my fate."

The sharp hiss escaped through my teeth before I could stop it.

 _Go back?_ He was the one who'd been so hot and bothered about my own desire to end my life! I thought we'd made the balance of our love clear. If _I_ wasn't allowed to go 'off myself' as he'd put it before, he _especially_ wasn't allowed to do so, purely for the sake of protecting _us_! The image of him, pale, fragile and defenseless in front of the most powerful vampires in the world, sent a shudder through me.

Jess and Eleanor were contemplating what a confrontation with the Volturi would entail, while Carine was busy assessing the seriousness of Beau's request.

"So, that being said," Beau pushed on, ignoring me entirely, "I guess we'll just go around the table, and you guys'll say 'yes', you want me to become one of you, or 'no' you don't."

 _HA!_ Eleanor's snort of laughter was clear in her head, _He's going over your head!_

 _You two are meant to be._

 _It's fate—absolute destiny._

 _He doesn't know what he's saying—what he'd be leaving behind._

 _A decree cannot be disregarded._

My hands balled into tight fists under the table as the thoughts of my family bombarded me.

Beau raised his eyes to Carine's, and gestured for her to begin.

 _I was afraid it would come to this,_ she worried. _But he is Edythe's mate. She couldn't live without him, that much is clear. As the mother of this coven…_

"Wait." I held up a hand, "Before we vote, I'd like to say one thing."

Beau frowned, and I arched a single brow at him. "It's only right that I give my opinion as well," I reminded him, and then went on. "I think Beau may be overreacting about the danger the Volturi poses. You see, there was a reason I resisted shaking Sulpicia's hand before we left. There was a very elemental piece of the puzzle they didn't think of—and I didn't want to just place it in their hands."

"Which was?" Archie prompted mockingly. Of course, he already knew what I would say, and the annoyance was clear in his mind. _Spin your webs, Edythe Cullen,_ he thought, _It's not going to change anything._ A small fissure snaked through the wall of his thoughts—a satisfied, grinning Beau, just minutes from now.

I ignored that and continued. "The Volturi are entirely egotistical—for good reason, I suppose. When they want to find someone, they put their mind to it, and they do it. You remember Fern, right?" I asked Beau, glancing across the table at him.

He nodded, paling a bit.

"She tracks people—it's her gift; not unlike another little vampire we used to know." I met the eyes of each of my family member's, and Joss's forgettable face flickered through each of their memories. "The only difference is that Fern's ability is much stronger than Joss's ever was or could be. Her ability is unique in its source, in that it is similar to how mine or Sulpicia's stolen gift works. She hooks onto the… Aura? Flavor? I don't know, I can't find a word for it… The tenor, I suppose, of somebody's mind, and she lets that be her guide. Distance is no problem for her.

And because I, nor Sulpicia, can read Beau's mind…" I trailed off, letting them come to the obvious conclusion.

Beau huffed. "Because you can't read my mind, you don't think Fern will be able to find me, either." He didn't sound impressed, and when I looked at him, the sullen expression on his face was so adorable that I would have liked to lean in and kiss his very-slightly-pouting bottom lip.

A mental whisper sounded around the room. My siblings and parents were considering options they hadn't seen before. The tide was turning in my favor.

"Exactly," I told him, "She relies completely on her gift. When it doesn't work, well, they'll be lost." I grinned smugly.

Jessamine's doubt surfaced.

Beau sighed, rolling his eyes. "That doesn't solve anything, Edythe."

"Of course it does!" I argued, "With Archie's gift, we'll be able to see them coming a thousand miles away, and it will be easy as relocating you to a convenient hiding place!"

Eleanor's pleasure was apparent. _They'll come to us, and we'll be able to pick them off one by one._

Jessamine, ever the soldier, ran through the tactical nuances of my strategy. _It's not completely without flaw…_

"But they'll be able to track _you_ ," Beau pointed out, anxiety surfacing in his eyes.

Jessamine smirked smugly at me over his shoulder. _Have I told you how much I like him?_

I shook my head at them. "I can take care of myself," I insisted.

 _You would offer yourself as bait,_ Jessamine realized.

Eleanor laughed delightedly. "Sounds like a plan to me!"

"Sulpicia will only have to read your mind to realize where I am," Beau pushed.

I shook my head at him. "She hardly ever leaves the tower, Beau—she hardly considers you a threat to her reign." I gave a short, satisfied laugh. The plan was perfect!

Various opinions were made clear around the table, but I was made even more confident when Jessamine's murmured approval swayed Carine's opinion.

"Fine, then," Beau relented, "So Edythe's given you another option to think about. Let's get this show on the road." He turned his eyes on me. "You first. Do you want me to join your family?"

I glared at his convoluted, manipulative question. _More than anything._ "Not in that way," I ground out, "You're staying human." Unconsciously, his thumb traced an idle pattern across my slim, naked ring finger, and a different avenue of longing wound its way through the framework in my mind.

He nodded, unsurprised, and then turned to Archie.

"Archie?"

"Definite yes, dude!" Obviously.

I rolled my eyes.

"Jessamine?"

 _You can hide him for a little while, Edythe, but they'll never stop looking. And I can't risk my family's safety—especially Archie's. I won't have him anywhere near them ever again._ "Yes."

I sighed disappointedly. Jessamine's decision was entirely grounded in the basis of making her husband happy. Agreeing with his stance was only half of the matter. Apparently, my point had not been as convincing as I'd hoped it would be.

Beau blinked once, the surprise apparent, and then he quickly moved on, trying to quash the emotion. He turned to my other brother.

Royal's answer was immediate and harsh: "No." His eyes were fixed on the glossy tabletop in front of him, his hands folded in front of him.

The familiar annoyance left a sour taste in my mouth. His age-old jealousy was exhausting.

 _Hold up, Edythe._ My eyes returned to his face. _It's not what you think. I'm with_ you _._

"Right," I scoffed under my breath.

He glared. "Let me explain. I have no problem with you joining the family, Beau." He lit placid, wide eyes on my love's face, imploring him to believe his words and truly take them to heart. "It's just…" He glanced at Eleanor out of the corner of his eye, "This isn't the life I would have chosen for myself, if I'd had a choice. If there had been someone there to vote 'no' for me, well…" _I would have had the chance to live a life I truly wanted._

He glanced apologetically up at his wife, but she held no grudge against him. She understood his pain and suffering, and she didn't hold it against him. She respected his honesty—admired it, even.

Beau nodded slowly at my brother, though I saw no recognition or understanding in his eyes, and then turned to gaze at El.

"Hell yeah, little bro!" she shouted, not needing to be asked, "We can find other ways to throw down with this Fern—whoever the hell she thinks she is."

Beau didn't seem comforted by this as he turned his eyes on Earnest.

 _He belongs at your side, Edythe._ "Of course we'd be overjoyed to have you join us, Beau. You're already so much a part of this family."

"Thanks, Earnest," he said, smiling a little, and then turned abruptly worried eyes on Carine. Did he sense how much of the decision weighed solely on my mother's shoulders?

Instead of turning my gaze on Carine, as the rest of my family did, I looked to Archie. He smirked, raising his eyebrows at me.

 _Need something?_

He gave me no access to his mind, emptying it completely of thought. I struggled to find even a hint of a clue as to what Carine was about to say.

Beau's pulse picked up speed incrementally, and I could smell the sweet potency of adrenaline, again, on his sweat-slicked palms. When I looked through Carine's eyes, however, it was not his anxious expression that I saw, but my own strained profile.

"Edythe," she said softly, only speaking aloud for the others' benefits.

 _He seems very well-informed of what he's facing, Edythe. If you'd only reconsider your stance. He'd be safer by a much higher degree to start with, but more than that… He's_ confident _in his decision, Edythe. He knows what's at stake for all parties involved—his self, his family and loved ones, and you especially, I think. I don't think he views the transformation from human to immortal as something he's giving up, rather—_

"No," I snapped, my hands curling into tight fists once more. How _could_ she? How could she abandon me, in this time of great need? I'd been counting on her—and here she was, committing to changing Beau for the sake of _my_ frivolous safety! _No!_

"Edythe," she repeated softly, "You must understand—it's the only way that makes sense, to keep my entire family intact. You are my daughter, dearly beloved. You have chosen to tie your life with his—thus, my choice has unerringly been made for me." _I will_ not _condemn either of you to death. I cannot bring myself to do so._

For the sake of my _depraved, irretrievable life_ , she was willing to damn Beau to hell for all of eternity! The fury gripped me so suddenly and so strongly, I was afraid for Beau's safety if I stayed.

So I launched myself from my seat, stalking from the room—all the while spewing such profanity under my breath that it even surprised El.

It was silent for a beat behind me, and then Carine said, "I suppose you know where I stand, Beau."

"Thanks," Beau said blankly, and through my mother's eyes, I could see Beau's shocked face, staring at the doorway I'd just stepped through. Carine watched him, appreciative of the sacrifices he was knowingly ready to make, but she felt undeniable guilt for the things he hadn't realized he was giving up yet—in only a way his immature, eighteen-year-old mind could not comprehend.

Seeing the wide-eyed innocence on Beau's face, through the filter of Carine's compassionate mind, only exacerbated the rage and guilt flooding through me. Why should I feel so _happy_ that Beau had won the votes? Why should I feel great anticipation and joy for something that would steal away the most humanizing part of the boy I loved? Why should I feel _happy_ for that?

Yes, I would get forever with him. But at _such atrocious cost!_

 _Will you stop fighting the inevitable?_ Eleanor wondered in playful exasperation. She could not grasp the complexity of my emotions. She did not see the horrid, horrid consequences that I did. _Once he's finally a vampire, you'll get everything you wanted. You won't have to hold out anymore—which will be_ so _relieving for the rest of us… The sexual tension between you two is—_

I smashed my fist directly through the center of her new television set, desperate to funnel my anger into some physical outlet. But her words clung to the vestiges of my frayed mind. How much longer could I resist, after all?

Eleanor cursed, forlorn.

"Told you so," Archie whispered to her.

"Well, thanks, guys," Beau said now from the other room, "That's all I needed, and, uh… I appreciate that you want to… you know… keep me. I feel pretty much the same way." By the end of his monologue, his voice sounded rough with emotion.

Sympathy surfaced in Earnest's mind, and he reached over to clasp Beau on the shoulder.

He smiled a little at my father, and then stood, stretching out his arms as if preparing for a hundred-meter sprint.

"Okay, so…" He turned his eyes on Archie, "Let's get 'er done, I guess."

TONIGHT?! The fury blew through me, a force to be reckoned with, and I stormed back into the dining room without paying attention to the response in Archie's mind.

"No! Absolutely not. No, _no, NO! Are you insane?_ " I shrieked, prowling toward him. His eyes widened as he processed my sudden appearance. I advanced until he was forced to back up. When the backs of his knees hit the chair, he dropped back into it. " _Are you absolutely and completely without sound mind?!"_ I gripped the arms of the chair and leaned in very, very close, livid, but also keeping in mind that he was now caged into the chair, and if Archie wanted to get to him, he'd have to go through me. Beau's head tilted back as I loomed over him.

Behind me, Archie stroked his suddenly burning throat, his thoughts a fractured mess of surprise and confusion. "Uh, I don't think _now_ is the best time, dude…" he said nervously.

"Best time?" I repeated, glaring at my brother over my shoulder, " _Best time?!_ When would be most _convenient_ for you, Archie? _Huh?_ When will you be absolutely sure that you won't _massacre him_?!"

Beau, undeterred by my viciousness, turned to look at Carine. "Carine?"

 _NO!_ The arm of the chair splintered between my fingers, and a banshee-shrieking wail of rage escaped me.

 _I will not harm him, Edythe, I promise_ , she thought. She'd committed to her undertaking, and would give Beau what he asked. "I'm capable, yes," she said to him, "You would be in no danger."

"Cool," Beau said.

" _Stop_!" I cried desperately, grasping Beau's jaw in my hands and yanking his head to look at me.

" _Edythe_!" Earnest hissed, shocked, "Be careful with him!"

"This is insanity! Craziness! _Please_ , just stop and think about what you're saying!" My mind raced as I struggled to compile the reasons it _couldn't_ be tonight, and there were more than enough. "Think of your father." This was always my first fallback, because I knew it was one that worked. "What do you think will go through his mind when he wakes up in a couple of hours and finds your bed empty, _again_? Your mother? Your friends. You can't just up and disappear, Beau! It would break their hearts. Not to mention your studies. I am not allowing some vague, future edict interrupt you finishing your high school career."

"But—"

I put a finger over his lips. "In the interest of remaining _inconspicuous_ , I suggest we take a rain-check on this conversation, put it off till a later date—say, after graduation?"

"But—" Beau said again, under my finger, and I shushed him.

Earnest sighed disapprovingly. _Let the boy speak, Edythe._

"I think it's a reasonable request," Carine admitted. "It's what would be easier for everyone involved." _It would ease the heartache some, if the separation isn't so sudden. And Charlie would get to see his only son graduate high school, and move out knowing he's happy and loved…_

I sighed, the anger fading, and straightened. Finally, _something_ was going my way.

"Until Charlie gets eaten by the vampire intent on murdering me," Beau interjected then.

I glared down at him. " _Victor_ "—the name came out as a curse—"will get nowhere near you _or_ your father. I can guarantee it."

Beau hesitated, the resolve in his bright blue eyes wavering.

"He doesn't stand a chance, Beau," I wheedled, "Not with all of us here, now. Not to mention your… _friends_." I sneered, imagining how his friends must _smell_. "He won't get past the river. Archie will see him coming. We'll keep you safe."

He started to shake his head. "It's not—"

"We'll keep Charlie safe, too."

His hesitation was longer this time. "Well…"

"Great." I clapped my hands together. "It's settled, then. Now, let's get you home—just in case Charlie wakes up early." I reached for Beau's hand, tugging him up and out of the chair. I strode away from the table, intent on heading for the door before anyone could say anything else, but Beau resisted, pulling back on my grasp.

"Wait," he protested, "Carine—you promise, right? After graduation? Like, right after?"

"Yes, Beau, I promise," she told him evenly.

A sudden flash went off in Archie's mind—a nearly indecipherable, washed out image of flowers—so many flowers—smiling faces, a long, gauzy white gown, and Beau's eyes, more intense than I'd ever seen them…

Hmm.

Beau let me pull him through the backdoor, striding beside me, his limbs loose and carefree. He even whistled as we crossed the lawn toward the forest fringing the land. He was confident, sure he'd won his victory this time around. I knew he would be harder to sway than ever now, and I ransacked my mind for any possible alternative…

There had to be something, _something_ …

Was there anything Beau wanted more than to become a vampire?

As I ran back toward the small, white house on the other end of town, Beau strapped securely to my back, I ran through every conversation we'd ever had, examining every word he'd said for some kind of loophole.

The only thing that even came close was _me_.

Hmm… Sudden inspiration struck, and I reordered my former question.

 _Was there anything he wanted more than for Carine to make the transformation herself?_

Maybe…


	18. Concession

**A/N:** Alrighty, guys, the final chapter is here. And then the Epilogue. Get ready for some Edy/Jules jealous competitive strife (like, _seriously_ cannot wait for the tent scene in Eclipse), coming up right after this ;)

For anyone who's wondering, yes, I am going ahead with Eclipse, and yes, I am going ahead with Breaking Dawn. Please, please, either let me know in a review or a PM what you would like to see in Breaking Dawn—any pieces, missing or replicated, you'd like to read, or any guesses, suggestions or ideas for plot. I have a bare skeleton sketched out, but still need to fill in some of the gaps.

And last but not least, thank you all for such lovely, constructive support this whole way through. I appreciate your reviews so very much, and reply to as many of them as I can—except for you guests, you ;) I'm looking at you, Reems. I can never respond to you, but you leave a review on literally every chapter, and you are always the sweetest, and I fully believe we'd be friends IRL, if we had the opportunity.

Anyway! Read on if you wanna know how the marriage suggestion/compromise plays out. Of course you want to know. So stop reading this, and get reading the actual story, guys!

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As I ran through the dark, back toward Beau's house, the emotions streaked through me at an alarming rate, an emotional merry-go-round of joy, fear, regret, shame, guilt, excitement, lust, love and dread.

But mostly, I schemed, trying to keep emotion out of it—but effectively failing.

Beau had asked multiple people to incite the change in him, but I suspected that what he really wanted most was for me to do the honors. It was in the begrudging way he set his eyes on them, always in a second refract off my own face. It was in the way he'd pleaded so many times over the course of the summer to be made a monster like myself.

If I could decide for myself that I would be willing to make the change when the time came, I could use it to my advantage. If I made him a promise of my own, surely it would be reasonable to ask for something in return.

Lost in thought, I scaled the side of his house and climbed in through Beau's window. Charlie was still sound asleep as Beau hopped off my back and went to sit on the edge of his bed, shedding the hooded sweatshirt he'd donned before we left.

I didn't go to sit by him. Instead, I paced the worn wooden floor again, needing the space to mull my argument over.

Time. _Time_. I needed more of it—and hopefully, in the interim, I could convince him that this half-life was not what he truly wanted… If I could cram every single concept, every human experience, every human sensation and feeling, into that time period, maybe he would see… Maybe… And if not, well, at least I would have given him as human an experience as possible before his time was up.

"Whatever you come up with—I doubt it'll make much difference."

"Shh," I hissed at him, holding a hand out, palm toward him, "Let me think."

It seemed such a ludicrous theory, to try and imagine what he might give me, in exchange for death… The death he wanted me to inflict upon him by my own doing—my teeth, the poisonous venom dripping _from_ his teeth…

Nothing could possibly equate to the lovely ideal of his entire abandonment of the complete, horrid thing—but because I knew there was no chance on earth, or in heaven or hell that would happen, I struggled to weave the next best substitute.

If only I had more time…

Beau huffed, rolling onto his back and throwing his arms over his head. He stared up at the ceiling, as if maybe he'd find the answers he was looking for there.

 _Time_ , I repeated in my head. If he could see what he'd be missing, if he could see what he would have to endure again and again and again… The eleven times I'd endured the improbable hell of Driver's Education. The monotonous schlep of high school, twelve times over. The unending night that cannot be fully contained in the time between when the sun sets and rises. The head with too much room to think, for useless, compartmentalized knowledge… The unending torture of vampiric thirst…

And more—the things he'd miss: Family, maturity, the ability to change, to grow, and not to stagnate in a forever seventeen-year-old body. Like still water in a clay jar—undeniably beautiful, but never, ever moving forward…

I turned sharply to face him, and he turned his head on the pillow to look at me. Tufts of hair peeked from under his arms, spilling from the sleeves of the plain cotton t-shirt he wore, and the hair on his head was windblown from our run.

 _Delicious_ , I allowed myself to observe.

And then I focused myself: "So, tell me something, Beau."

He eyed me, and sat up on one elbow. "Okay…"

I strode to his side, curling my legs underneath me on the rug beside his bed. "What do you want? Like—really, really want? If you had to choose one single thing in this life, what would it be?"

"I… I already have everything I want," he said, a v-shaped pucker appearing between his brows. "I have Carine's guarantee that she'll change me, and after that, I'll get to spend the rest of forever with you."

I smiled coquettishly, tilting my head to one side. His answer had not surprised me, and I was prepared for it. "Anything else?"

He hesitated, thoughtful. If I was right, I would be betting everything I had on this one speculation—all my eggs in one basket, going all in on a poker game… Inside, I was tumultuous with anxiety.

On my face, I showed nothing but patience. I batted my lashes at him once, twice.

He scowled, knowing I was trying to charm him. I wondered if my dimples were showing. "I… I guess that you could be the one to do it," he said slowly, "That it wouldn't have to be Carine, that it could be you to change me…"

A strange mix of relief and joy exploded in my chest. It was as I'd suspected. I pushed aside my doubt over the matter, knowing there would be no room for it when the time came to make true on my side of the bargain. I had bitten him before, I had taken his blood into my body when I had still been unsure, and I had not killed him then. And now that I knew I would never harm him again… It was merely a matter of willpower and preparation.

"And if I did agree to that…" His eyes widened very marginally. "What would you give me in return?"

By the expression of unadulterated shock on his face, I may as well have dip-kissed McKayla Newton in the middle of the Forks High School canteen.

I waited for the surprise to fade.

And it did, after nearly a minute. The shock dovetailed into suspicion, and he took a breath, shaking his head slightly as if to reorient himself.

"What do you want, exactly?"

Knowing my first bid would be rejected out of hand, I set the bar as high as I could without sounding like I was out rightly bluffing. "Five years."

He shook his head once, hard. "No way."

"Three?"

Beau's eyes hardened. "Twenty-one?" He said the number doubtfully.

"Young adulthood."

Beau snorted softly. "I'd probably have a beard."

I considered that, imagining what he'd look like with a scruffy jaw, his blue eyes the perfect tranquil counterpoint to the gruffness…

"Hmm," I considered, lifting a hand to trail my baby finger along the smooth contour of his chin, letting my fingertip come to rest in the indentation under his full bottom lip.

I added another pro to my 'He continues to age' list: Beau—with facial hair.

"What—you have a thing for beards now?"

"If it's you growing the beard."

He exhaled, rolling his eyes. "I'll give you until September."

Yes… He wanted this—badly. Regardless, I drove a harder bargain. "Too soon."

He threw up his hands. "Fine, then—make it a year. But that's as high as I'm gonna go."

I suppressed my pleased grin. "At least give me two," I couldn't help but entreat.

He narrowed his beautiful eyes at me. "You're pushing your luck now."

One year… I sat back and pondered, deciding it wasn't enough to give him all the human things I wanted to give him. I struggled to whittle down my list, narrowing it to the most concentrated of human experiences, the ones that would have the most impact.

The image Archie had shown me before we left the house barely twenty minutes earlier coursed again through my mind, gathering strength…

 _I would stand at the top of the stairs, the perfume of hundreds of flowers thick in my nose, most concentrated in the bundle I would hold at my waistline. My arm, strung through Earnest's… An enchanting, fairytale rendition of the Bridal March playing below…_

 _When my feet touched the runner at the foot of the aisle, I would lift my eyes, over the heads of our guests, our family, our friends—and I would find him watching, waiting for me—dashing and flawless in a black tuxedo, a white rose pinned to his lapel._

To call him my own, to tie myself to him in every human way possible—by law, in front of family and friends. To declare ourselves… It was my most wanted wish. No other vow on earth, no other promise carried the weight of the eloquently simple phrase, 'I do'.

In all likelihood, I wanted to bind myself to him in marriage just as much as he hungered for immortality. It seemed like a fair enough trade to me.

The entire institution of it, the pageantry, the attention, it would make Beau cringe. The establishment of it was something he disliked, at _least_. But did he dislike it to even the same degree that I detested the idea of infecting him with my venom, and stealing away his soul?

If it was so, my enigma was solved.

If not, well, we'd both get what we wanted—but I had to ask myself: was it worth it?

Trusting that his resolve was still as formidable a force as ever, I pitted my greatest desire against his. In my head, I laid every self-serving card I owned on the table.

 _Call_ , I thought.

"Okay—if you want to forget time limits, there is _one_ thing I want before I change you."

He knew something big was coming—could he see it in the trepidation of my expression? "Which is?"

I took a breath. "I want to marry you."

He didn't blink—and for one, heart-stopping moment, I wondered if he would agree right then.

Then he said, "You're joking."

His triviality stung, more than I was willing to admit, but I was comforted by the knowledge that he hadn't outright disagreed to the suggestion.

"No, I'm not," I said.

It was as close to comfort as I could come—the idea that I'd be bonded to him in the best way possible, that I would be with him, that I would have the best part of him, before the humanity was—quite literally—sucked away from him. It made perfect sense to me.

Beau's eyes vacillated between sympathy and terror when he realized I was serious. His eyes flickered across my face as the emotions coursed, one after another, like a freight train, behind his eyes.

Then he stood, clutching his head in his hands as he began to pace.

"Married," he muttered to himself, "At eighteen."

I turned to watch as he worked through his own dilemma between moral and societal expectation.

"It doesn't matter what other people think," I beseeched, "What do _you_ want? Do you want to marry me?"

"My mom'll kill me… She'll… She'll completely and totally hide me—besides, do you know how this will look?" He turned on me, a low, hysterical laugh slipping through his lips. "Do you know what people will think?"

I started to shake my head. "That—"

"They'll think I got you pregnant! And my mom—my mom… Do you know how long she's been drilling it into me, that marriage is serious business, something not to just frivolously—?"

"I'm not the least bit frivolous," I assured him.

He stopped to stare at me. "What am I gonna tell her?"

"I doubt she'll struggle too hard with the truth—that we're two young people madly in love, who want to go off to college together in the right way."

He shook his head. "I don't know," he said, and then very quietly repeated the phrase.

I tried very hard to hide the hurt in my expression, and I cast my face away so he wouldn't see how much his skepticism wounded me.

I couldn't hide from his observation, however, and he noticed my sudden sullenness. He came to kneel in front of me, taking both my hands in his.

"Look," he said, "It's not that I don't want to marry you. I'll give you the biggest ring I can find—"

"I don't need a ring."

"—It's just, I've been conditioned all my life into believing marriage was a _bad_ thing. It was, y'know, kinda the beginning of the end for my parents."

I scowled at him. "Interesting choice of words."

He laughed and shook his head. "Edythe," he said, "I want you, for the rest of forever. I'll marry you, sure—I just don't understand why it has to be so _soon_."

I appraised his face, wondering if he'd realized what he'd just said. "I don't know why your change has to be so soon, either," I admitted sullenly.

Beau sighed. "You're acting like it's a death sentence—"

"Isn't it?" I demanded. Wasn't this little time all we had left to treasure his perfect and cherished soul?

His eyes held mine for a very long moment, and I could see the cogs working in his mind. Would he endure society's wrath for me—his parents'? Would he push aside his foolish worries over what other people thought?

He sighed, deep in thought.

"Don't tell me you have commitment issues," I tried to tease, but my voice sounded stretched taut.

"I am one hundred and ten percent sure about you," he assured me, and then sighed once more, his shoulders slumping in… Resignation? He turned to gaze down at me. "An August wedding?"

I felt my face jerk up to take in his, and for a moment, I wondered if he was simply humoring me.

"Beau, you can't be half in on this. It isn't something you can just agree to for my sake—"

"I'm not," he insisted, looping his arm around my shoulders. "I want you. I guess it sounds reasonable that we could get married sometime down the road. What's the difference in it being now versus five years down the road?"

I exhaled very softly through my nose. So he had no problem with delaying our wedding vows five years, but when I'd suggested he stay _human_ for that much longer… Where I ducked my head against his shoulder, he couldn't see me roll my eyes.

"Thank you," I whispered, and he shuddered when my cool breath soaked through his t-shirt. Then I lifted my head. "Oh—and it doesn't have to be a big ordeal or anything. We'll fly out to Vegas next weekend, if you'd like."

He smirked at me. "I'll pack a bag."

I smiled, forcing my own selfish dreams aside. It was enough that he'd agreed to marry me. I could sacrifice the images I'd had of a big wedding in my mind for years. Besides, I reminded my self-centered, childish indulgences, it wasn't the big wedding that made a marriage, after all. I needed nothing except Beau and his vow.

In the next room, Charlie's angler dreams cut off, and he surfaced from sleep. He rolled in bed, his thoughts groggy and content for a split second, until he remembered the occurrences of Beau's abrupt, lengthy disappearance. Belligerency, suspicion, and the rough estimation of resignation replaced the fatigue, as he rolled out of bed.

Beau glanced at the wall that separated their rooms when he heard the creak of bedsprings.

"Charlie's getting up to check on you," I reported, pushing him back toward the bed, "I'd better leave."

For a moment, Beau's heart became as still and silent as my own, and horror swept through me. His eyes were suddenly panic-stricken, and when I half rose from the floor, his hand came out, fingers looping around my wrist.

"Don't," he wheezed, his voice hoarse and rattled.

Time, I reminded myself. He needed time, and soon enough he would trust that I wasn't going anywhere.

Tenderly, I leaned over to brush my lips across his. "Don't worry," I soothed, "I won't be far."

Unable to bring myself to leap from the window, I instead ducked into his closet, leaving the door cracked open. Surrounded by his clothes and comforting scent, I waited as Charlie pulled his own bedroom door open and crossed the hall to Beau's.

He was laying on his bed now, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. I narrowed my eyes as I surveyed his expression, trying to make sense of it.

The door cracked open a couple of inches, and Charlie peered in.

As horrible an actor as ever, Beau rolled toward him, his eyes bright and aware—entirely giving away the fact that he'd been awake for hours already. "Morning, Dad."

Charlie jumped, embarrassed at being caught spying. "Oh—uh, hey kid. Didn't know you were up already."

"Yeah." Beau started to sit up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I was just waiting for you to wake up so I could get in the shower."

"Hold it," Charlie said, flipping the light on. Beau squinted in the sudden brightness, and I saw his eyes touch the closet—he obviously knew I was eavesdropping. "You and I need to talk."

Charlie folded his arms and appraised his son. I caught the flicker of disapproval and confusion, intermixed with a thrill of fear… Longing?... Loneliness?... I couldn't quite grasp it, and quickly it was gone.

"You know you're in trouble." He worked to make his voice low and gruff, accusing—but he felt awkward disciplining his son. It was something he wasn't used to, and honestly, hadn't expected to have to do a lot of. Renee had told him he was the perfect kid, never talked back, had never broken a single rule in his life at home.

For a minute, self-blame was apparent in his dim mind. He suspected that _he_ was to blame for Beau's sudden changes. Quickly, however, the blame shifted.

 _Edythe… Bad influence…_

"Yeah," Beau huffed, furrowing his brow at the floor, "I know I am."

He shuffled his feet, bringing to recall the speech he'd been composing for the last twenty-four hours. "What were you thinking, son? Pretty irresponsible of you, don't you think? To run off like that without so much as a phone call? All Julie could tell me was that you'd taken off with Archie Cullen, and that she was pretty sure you were in trouble. I just… I don't know, kid. You've always been responsible, but this, not to mention what happened last Spring, is just too much… You tell me—what do you think I ought to do? Would you be better off moving back in with your mother? Did she parent you better than I can?"

Misplaced judgments about himself aside, Charlie had no idea of the inadvertent, perfect plan he'd stumbled across. Sunny Florida would be the perfect place for Beau—he'd be safe there.

"Dad—no. What are you talking about? You parent just fine," Beau groaned.

"Then tell me what's so different about Forks!" he demanded, the anger gaining strength. "You used to be a good kid—followed the rules. What changed? If Edythe is so much of a bad influence on you—"

"Dad, c'mon."

"Well, what else am I supposed to think? Until she came along…"

"Look, if you're telling me I can't see her… That's not gonna fly, Dad."

Charlie spluttered, his face darkening several shades of red. "The hell it isn't, Beau! _I'm_ the adult in this house, and you'll listen to what _I say_!"

Beau blew breath slowly through his lips. "I'm not undermining your authority, Dad. Ground me for as long as you want. I take full responsibility for my actions. I know it was stupid and reckless—but… I had to go, Dad. Edythe needed me. There was… An emergency."

Charlie raised his eyebrows, waiting for an elaboration.

"I don't know what to tell you." Beau scratched the back of his neck. "It was mostly just one huge misunderstanding—see, when I jumped off the cliff, Archie told Royal about it, and…" Beau realized the error he'd made and trailed off.

Charlie's blood pressure rose several worrying degrees, his face turning an odd, mottled shade of purple. "Jumped… Off… The… Cliff?"

Beau groaned, and muttered something that sounded like 'Dammit' under his breath.

Charlie was puffing angrily through his nostrils, about ready to explode. Apparently, he had not been privy to Beau's idiotic adrenaline-seeking stunts either.

"It was nothing—really. Just horsing around with Jules. Swimming." Beau struggled to brush off the incident with as much non-chalance as possible.

 _Swimming,_ Charlie thought distrustfully, _In the Pacific. In April._

"Anyway—from the way he explained it, it kind of sounded like I was trying to kill myself or something, and Royal told Edythe, and she got upset. And then she wouldn't answer her phone so Archie dragged me to I… LA… To explain in person." He shrugged one shoulder, trying to downplay how close he'd come to ending his life, but of course Charlie wasn't having any of it.

The only thing his mind could process after "jumping off the cliff" was "trying to kill myself". Blurry images were suddenly clear in his mind, images that I hadn't seen before… Images I wasn't sure I wanted to see…

Beau—angry and destructive, shouting and raging as he hurled shoes, clothes, books at his bedroom walls, at Charlie, at Renee…

The horrible, choking sobs behind Beau's closed bedroom door as Renee broke down in the hallway along with her son. Charlie had eased an awkward arm over her shoulders, entirely clueless on how to comfort either of them.

Beau, trudging down the stairs with a straining, black garbage bag in his hand. Through the indistinct sieve of Charlie's memory, the hollow, blank expression on Beau's face was more familiar than the anger had been.

 _"Feelin' better now, kid?"_ he'd asked him.

Beau appraised his father with blank blue eyes, ringed with purple bruises. He didn't say anything, but nodded once before disappearing out the back door with the garbage bag.

Charlie hadn't missed the menagerie of scratches and nicks on his hands and arms, and he'd feared Beau had inflicted the injuries on himself. He'd watched his son vigilantly for months, researching the warning signs so he knew what to look for.

He didn't understand the correlation between the Beau he'd been witness to months ago, and the boy he'd seen slowly coming back to life in the last few weeks. He couldn't fit the two pieces together.

" _Were_ you trying to kill yourself, Beau?" His voice was hoarse, nearly soundless. He remembered the dark paths his own mind had taken him down in the months after Renee left him with an infant Beau. The solution had passed through his mind many times, and he remembered many instances where he'd been unnecessarily foolish.

"No, Dad—I wasn't trying to kill myself." Beau rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous."

He wasn't sure if he believed him completely. Regardless of if his intentions had been true or not, Charlie felt profound relief over the fact that he'd failed. He decided to let this emotion take precedence over all the others. He lifted his chin a fraction, and appraised his son.

"Don't ever do that to me again, kid. Oh, and by the way—you're grounded."

"I figured."

Charlie hesitated now, feeling the words needed to be said, but not wanting to cause more of a ruckus than was necessary. But the anger grew to profound amounts inside of him, white and hot, and he felt he had to say the words. He didn't think he'd have the courage to do so at a later date.

Guilt and indecision gave way to fury.

"Is that it? Can I shower now?" Beau asked, getting to his feet.

"Now, just hold on a minute," Charlie said, "There's something else I need to say. Something I doubt you'll like hearing all too much, but it needs to be said anyway."

Beau appraised his father warily. "What?"

Charlie looked up at his son. "They're all coming back, then?"

"Think so—pretty sure that's the plan."

"And—you're taking her back? You're back together?"

"Yeah."

Charlie shifted, uncomfortable. He took a breath, and then the words poured forth in a great gush: "Look, kid. I'm gonna say this now, because I think it needs to be said and acknowledged. When your mom left all those years ago with you, it screwed me up pretty good. A lot of what you went through, I did, too. I was real angry at her for quite some time…

But looking back on it all now, I'm glad she didn't come back. I'm glad I didn't have to go through that hell twice." He lifted his eyes to his son's face, hoping he'd get the picture. "I don't want you to have to go through all that mess again, kid. In the last couple weeks, I've seen you get some life back in your bones. All without her. And if you let her in again, you only give her the power to break you again… If you ask me, I think it's ridiculous that she thinks she can just waltz back into the picture like nothing ever happened, without so much as—"

Beau cut him off then, his tone hot with anger. "You don't know her, Dad. You don't want she went through. What _we_ went through."

I winced. His altruism was staggering, and entirely unwarranted. Everything Charlie was saying about me was more than justifiable.

Charlie stared at his son in disbelief, for half a second. He couldn't believe how casual Beau was being about all of this.

"You're not a doormat, Beau. Don't let her walk all over you! Frankly, she's a flake—and she doesn't deserve a second more of your time. As your Dad, I just want you to be happy—and honestly? I don't think she's gonna get you there."

A very brief, but very clear, image of Julie Black flashed in his mind, then. He saw how much it had pained her when Beau had left, and he ran through a couple different instances of Beau and Julie's interactions, mostly in a tiny, faded red house out on the reservation. His opinions were clear—he obviously thought of Julie as a much better match for his son than me.

He compared the desolate depression his son had sunken into in the months after I'd left, compared to the laughter and easy-going attitude he'd adopted around the wolf-girl.

I would have felt the same way if I hadn't known that dangerous prospect she presented as a werewolf.

The ever-present, possessive jealousy swirled in my stomach when I saw Charlie's idealized, almost dreamlike memories of Beau and Julie together. Their casual touches, their joking, the brilliant smile on Beau's face…

 _She makes him way happier than that Cullen girl ever could…_ Charlie muttered mentally.

"I'm not changing my mind," Beau said now, and his tone was metallic with anger. The idea of him defending me was a pill unexpectedly difficult to swallow. I deserved every barb Charlie had made at me. I didn't deserve his unerring faithfulness… "Where Edythe is, I'll be, too. She's… Well, she's pretty much my everything. So… I want you to be nice to her."

Charlie spluttered. "Beau—"

Beau shook his head. "I know how you feel, Dad. And now you know, too. Edythe and I… We're pretty serious. So I think you'd better get used to that."

Charlie glared at his son for a long moment, his thoughts a frazzled tangle of wires in his mind. He could find no solution, no rebuttal. He'd said all he could say, and now he was caged.

The fury raged inside him, pushing his blood pressure into dangerous zones. From the closet, I watched his face turn a concerning shade of purple, and I contemplated calling Carine before I realized I'd abandoned my cell phone somewhere in Brazil—probably a child's plaything by now.

"Now—could you go? I really do need to shower."

Unable to say anything civil, Charlie blurted a fuming, "This conversation isn't over!", turned on his heel and stalked from the room, slamming the door shut behind him. He stomped down the hall and descended the stairs, muttering to himself about who was really in charge in this house.

I went to sit in the rocking chair in the corner, staring at the tight line of Beau's shoulders as he glared at his bedroom door. His heart was pounding out a furious, tympanic rhythm. Finally, when it slowed, he revolved to face me.

"Sorry," he muttered, and strode to his dresser, beginning to gather clean clothes for his shower.

He apologized for what was clearly my fault—I'd only constructed more impassable walls between him and his father. "Please don't apologize—I deserve far worse than what he said. He's right. I hurt you, badly, and I don't deserve your—"

Beau sighed and crossed the room to me, planting his hands on the armrests of the chair. He leaned forward under the chair tilted back, and his face was very close to mine.

"Don't you get it?" he said softly. "Because I know Charlie doesn't. But you're way smarter than him, so it should be obvious to you."

I only stared at his sweet, fiercely intense face.

"I forgive you." His words whispered like a prayer, a balm across my soul. It was the first time he'd said the word aloud. "You did what you thought was best—but it's all in the past now. You're back here with me, where you belong."

I shook my head in disbelief. His goodness was truly unparalleled. "In any case, please don't start any fights with your father over me."

Beau's eyes narrowed. "Too late." Then he smiled. "Besides—if he kicks me out, I know exactly where I'd go. Plus," he added, shrugging, "Then there's no need for drawing things out unnecessarily."

I glared at him. "So eager for eternal damnation."

Beau laughed, and then straightened, stealing away the cloud of warmth he'd surrounded me with. He picked up his things from where he'd left them on the dresser and said, very casually, "You know, I'm calling your bluff on that. You don't really believe it."

I felt my eyes lift with incredulity. "Don't I?"

"Nope." He turned to face me. "Because if you truly believed you don't have a soul, you never would have said the things you said when I found you in Volterra."

I opened my mouth to contest him, but his lips pulled up in a crooked, smug little smirk.

" _'Incredible, Carine was right'_?" he quoted perfectly.

My mouth fell open with an audible 'pop'.

At the very end, in the moment I truly believed I'd died… It had been him I'd seen—just as warm and solid and real as he was now, standing in front of me. I _had_ embraced Carine's unrealistic viewpoint then. I had believed whatever pure part of me remained had found heaven, had found paradise with Beau.

"That doesn't mean any—"

"Oh, I think it does," he retorted, looking rather proud of himself. "And you know what else I think?"

A low growl vibrated silently in my chest. I couldn't decide whether his cockiness made me angry, or if it just made him all the more desirable. "What else do you think?"

"I think there's hope for you after all." He snatched his stick of deodorant off the dresser's top and added it to the pile in his arms.

 _Hope_ … The tiny, simple word instilled in me more emotion that I had known I was capable of. _Was_ there hope for me, after all?

The strength of the possibility pulled me to the feet, pushed my body across the room and against his chest. I cradled his lovely face in my hands, drinking in the adoration and _hope_ in his eyes.

For now, because I couldn't quite bring myself to believe it, I could let him hope enough for the both of us. My chest, which had felt so empty for so long, felt suddenly full—too full, brimming over with the devotion I had for the flawless human boy in front of me.

If I could bring myself to do the unthinkable… If, after all this worry and strife, his soul, in fact, was _not_ at risk… The strength of the possibility made me tremble.

"Forever," I theorized, pulling myself up so that my mouth could touch his. As his lips touched mine, the sun poked its sleepy head over the blanket of the horizon, slim shafts of golden light finding their way into his room.

My heart, too—perhaps I hadn't lost it after all—filled with warm, gilded sunshine.

.

 **A/N:** Again, I took a couple dialogue prompts from Visser in this chapter—namely the facial hair situation, because that was just adorable and I couldn't _not_ add that in.

I know I've been uploading rather frequently this week, but the Epilogue may take a little while (like a few days to half a way) because I want to be able to post the first chapter of Eclipse right away… Still have to finalize its name, too… Ugh. Lol.


	19. Epilogue: Bad Blood

**A/N:** SURPRISE! I'm back—and sooner than you thought! Yay for Epilogues! I can't believe I've basically written two books in under a year. Ummm…. !

… !

Anyway. I'm shocked. But that's not what I came here to tell you. I came here because the epilogue is here, and I stayed up till midnight writing it—and I'm like three chapters deep into Eclipse already. I'm PSYCHED you guys. Eclipse is my favorite and my least favorite book in the entire series, and I can't wait to get started on it. Eep!

Enjoy the epilogue, and we'll chat again at the end!

.

After a particularly irritating workday at Newton's—strife with obnoxious, difficult customers, leaky fish bait and an impressively corrupted hiking boot display—Beau slumped in the passenger seat of the Volvo, his expression irritable and sullen.

"She's just being rude!" he complained now, "Just plain rude! How hard would it be for her to just get on the phone and talk to me?"

Beau had called the Black residence from work, his attempts at talking to his friend once again thwarted. He'd been trying for a very long time—weeks—to reach Julie Black again. Each of his attempts had failed, and Bonnie Black's excuses had steadily become less and less polite. Apparently, this time, she'd out rightly told him that Julie simply didn't want to talk to him.

I started the car, not all that pleased about the ill effect on his mood due to the wolf-girl. I resented her avoidance almost as much as I was glad for it.

Beau's fist, tight and contracted, shifted restlessly on the armrest as he glared out the window. "So much for staying friends," he grumbled.

I tried to soothe him, hating to see him so upset—but also loathe to defend Julie Black. "I'm sure it's not you she's avoiding as much as it's me," I said, "She knows we're back, and I assume she knows I'm with you. She won't come near me." _If she has even the slightest bit of intelligent inclination._ "The enmity is rooted very deeply, you see."

Beau scoffed, his eyes sparking with fury. "That's stupid," he grunted. "She knows as well as I do that you're not like other vampires."

I sighed. Our diets aside, the Quileute pack was not entirely foolish. "Regardless, it's better to keep our distance," I assured him. He didn't seem convinced, so I pushed on. "Don't you see, Beau? Regardless of how we try to conduct ourselves, our nature is seen in no different light to the Quileutes. Your friend is young and inexperienced. I have years on her, and so I know I can keep myself composed—but I don't know if she would be able to. She's very young, very immature, and werewolves are volatile creatures by nature. More than likely, a duel would occur, and I don't know if I could bring myself to stop before I k—" I stopped myself there, before my honesty could get the best of me. "Before I harmed her."

Beau flinched, and shook his head, obviously catching my slip. "You wouldn't kill her," he said.

I didn't want to lie to him, but would the honesty insult him? After all, the two were friends, regardless of whether they'd ever be seeing each other again.

Just then, a distinct uproar of thought interrupted my reverie.

 _He could have killed himself! After everything I've warned him about—he does this!_

Charlie, I realized, was again furious with his son.

This surprised me, and I wondered why Archie hadn't called—I'd since acquired a new cell phone—to warn us.

The traffic light in front of us changed, and I realized Beau was still waiting for his answer.

"It's a distinct possibility," I said quietly, "Especially if she put you in any sort of danger." Imagining the pain he would endure if I were to kill his friend, I continued, "But I would try, very hard, not to do so—for your sake."

Out of the corner of my eye, Beau's lips thinned into a severe line. What more could I say, though?

Again, Charlie's voice rang out, and I realized that he was speaking out loud. _"Don't think I'm letting you off the hook either, young lady! I'll be calling your mother—it would do you well to think of what you'll say to her on your walk home, Julie Black!"_

 _Julie Black._

It was clear now why Archie hadn't called to warn me.

I could see, through Charlie's eyes, the blurry image of Julie Black descending the front porch steps of the Swan residence, and heading down the sidewalk. At the last minute, she veered off, into the forest.

Oblivious to the disturbance up ahead, Beau said, "That'll never happen." He stared at the stop sign at the end of the street, dismissing a decades-long feud with an abrupt shake of his head—as if that was all it would take.

Around the corner, Chief Swan ran through the different options for more severe punishment in his head. There weren't many—he didn't have much disciplining experience beyond the grounding he'd already put Beau under the influence of.

In the forest across the yard, Julie Black kicked twigs out of her path as she walked. _It's for his own good,_ she thought sullenly to herself.

I heard Beau's heart lurch when he inspected the expression on my face.

"I'm afraid you're already in more trouble, Beau."

"What?" he wheezed. "Why?"

 _I trusted them… How could he… How did I not see?... Reckless… Stupid… Partners in crime…_

Charlie continued to fume, listing all of Beau's trips to the hospital in the last couple of months, connecting every one of his injuries to the source of his rage. Witnessing the memories of bandages, bruises, lacerations and stitches flitting through his mind froze an ice block in my stomach.

And then the image of the bright red motorcycle, parked in the Swans' driveway, drilled me to my seat. _His_ bright red, shiny motorcycle.

 _No_ …

The extent to which Beau had risked his life in his straining attempts to hear his auditory hallucinations while I'd been gone was horrific. I balked when I realized he'd ridden to the brink of death far more times than I'd thought, before he'd leaped from the edge of that cliff…

 _No…_ I thought again. _He_ can't _be that idiotic!_

It wasn't enough that the spineless, self-serving _bitch_ had encouraged his perilous behaviors—but now she was _exploiting_ them in the most malevolent way possible!

Trapped in the body of a woman, Julie Black was no more than a tantrum-throwing, immature _toddler_.

I rounded the bend onto their street, witnessing the offending two-wheeler with my own bare eyes now, as I passed the house and parked nearer to the edge of the forest, so that my Volvo's presence wouldn't be immediately identified.

As we slid past, Beau's eyes lit on the bright red vehicle, staring wide-eyed. "She didn't," he choked.

"She did," I confirmed darkly.

 _About time,_ Julie Black thought dourly from the cover of the trees. In her mind, she was picturing the ancient, yellowed document—the treaty from decades ago that had been signed by two Quileutes and five vampires. Fresh ink at the bottom of the page depicted a new signature—one, Samantha Uley. Apparently, she had been added to the list since the last time I'd seen the paper.

She must have been the new pack leader, I surmised, noting the date next to her signature. Her change had occurred nearly a year ago, before Julie had interrupted our prom to speak to Beau. By transforming first, she must have appropriated Julie's chance to be Chieftess. According to the lineage, Black was of higher status than Uley.

Automatically, I probed the surrounding forest for any sign of this Chieftess, or any other wolves, but there were no other mental voices I could hear except for hers. She had come alone—a lone wolf.

Beau muttered passionate death threats under his breath as I pulled to the curb and killed the engine.

"Is she still here?" he growled, his hand on the door handle.

"Yes," I told him, "She's waiting for us there." I pointed to the path that snaked through the trees. He didn't seem to realize that the place where Julie Black waited was the very same place I'd taken him to do the unthinkable last Fall.

I had never witnessed such riling rage in the boy I loved. His face was flushed with color, his eyes the color of steel blue as he scoured the property for a sign of the wolf girl. Encouraged by the fury, his heart pounded, and the scent of his blood coursed sweetly in the air, laced with epinephrine. He was intoxicating—and the realization that Julie Black was the target of his rage only made him _more_ appealing.

Would he mind _very_ much if I killed her by accident?

Beau launched himself from the car with surprising grace and adrenaline-enhanced speed. Even the rain feared his wrath—ceasing as soon as his boots touched the earth. He took long, fluid strides, his hands balled into fists at his sides, his brow pulled down over his glinting, furious eyes.

Though I hated to do it, quickly I rounded the car to intercept him. If I possessed any hope that he could possibly harm the shape shifter, I would have handed him a crowbar and let him go at it.

As it was, he'd probably harm himself before he even came near her, and I could not risk letting him get that close.

I gripped the back of his jacket in my fist and yanked him to a halt.

Beau tugged against my hold once, and then realized his efforts were futile. "Hey, _traitor!_ " he yelled toward the trees, "Come out and _fight_ me!"

"Shh," I hushed him, trying very hard not to laugh, "Charlie will hear you, and once he gets you inside, he may handcuff you to the radiator."

For a minute, I wondered if this would actually do Beau a lot of good. If he was handcuffed to the radiator, there was no way he would be able to go off and partake in such asinine activities.

Beau, eyes on fire, glared once toward the house. "Whatever," he growled, "Just give me a sec here. The execution will only take a minute, and then Charlie can do whatever he wants with me."

In the house, Charlie glared out the window, only seeing the motorcycle in the driveway. He was growing impatient, noting the time on the clock.

In the forest, Julie was equally as anxious. She folded her arms tightly across her chest, shifting her weight from one Ked to the other. _Let's just get this over with,_ she grumbled to herself, _I won't be the one to break the treaty, but if she tries anything…_ She suppressed the shudder that wanted to tremble at her shoulders, even the thought of a scuffle between the two of us triggering the phasing reflexes inside of her.

She stretched her neck, trying to calm herself.

I realized the intention of her visit. "She's still here because she wants to speak with _me_ ," I told him.

As if the words held more weight than I'd known, his temper vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and his jacket went slack between us.

There was sudden wariness in his eyes as he inquired, "What does she want?"

"Just to talk," I assured him, "Nothing more." Though I knew she wouldn't hesitate to fight me if she felt threatened. "She's…"— _A spiteful little two-year-old_ —"speaking on behalf of the pack."

 _Why did I think this was a good idea?_ Julie Black lamented. _The last thing I want to do is see them_ together _._

Charlie's impatience was only growing, and now he picked up the phone to dial Newton's. Once he realized Beau had already left, it wouldn't take him long to ensue his own search. He would see my car long before he made it to his own.

"Let's go," I urged, "Charlie's getting impatient."

We strode together through the forest, and I held onto Beau's elbow as I hurried him down the path. Every one of my senses felt heightened to their full capacity—not that I would have needed any of that. The girl's putrid stench was more than enough guide.

Her heart lurched when she heard the uneven tempo of Beau's steps on the soggy loam of the forest. She strained, but could not detect _my_ footsteps. This set her on edge, and she suppressed another shudder. She knew she would have no trouble detecting my footfalls if she was on all fours, and she resisted the urge to give in to the temptation to phase.

Unlike the shape shifter, there was no need for me to suppress any of _my_ fighting instincts. I kept them within easy reach, just in case I needed to use them.

We rounded the last tree, Julie Black's tall, muscular frame looming into view. She was leaning against a moss-covered tree trunk, her well-muscled arms folded across her chest. She wore a pair of denim cut-offs, and a ragged men's wife beater over a dark blue, strappy sports bra.

She was beautiful, of course. I couldn't deny that. Her dewy copper skin held no trace of blemish or imperfection. Her ebony hair and eyes were startlingly intense. When we approached her, she pushed off the tree, and came to stand in the center of the pathway.

She held herself in an exaggerated sort of relaxed posture, but her thoughts betrayed her true tension, as well as the clenching of her fists. The air around her seemed to shimmer with the strength of her rigidity, and I held up a warning arm across Beau's chest.

He didn't seem to notice, and continued to step forward, so I laid my palm against his abdomen. Now he stopped.

Julie Black's gaze flickered to the place where I touched him so casually, and the rage filled her anew.

 _Are you his protector, or his jailor?_

Obviously, she'd been made knowledgeable of my abilities—Beau must have told her—but I showed no inclination that I was reading her thoughts. If necessary, I would keep that under lockdown as long as I could, in case I needed to use it in a fight.

That she thought so little of me that I would use Beau as a shield or a hostage if it came to it was insulting, and I smothered the hiss that buzzed in my throat.

I could not deny the contrast she examined between Beau and myself. Though the humans struggled to see past our pretense of beauty, Julie Black saw me for the monster that I was. The Quileutes regarded us as crystalline, fluid creatures of the night—only resembling the shape of our formerly human bodies. If there were anyone who could argue against the existence of my soul better than myself, it would have been her.

Behind me, Beau stood warm and solid and soft—direct paradox to the cold stillness of myself.

She also noticed how _well_ he looked now—color in his formerly pale cheeks, affect in his prior zombie-like eyes. She may have been there to comfort him in my absence, but I was here now.

I was reminded again of the fact that the only reason he was here with me now was because of _her_.

"Hey, Beau," she said to him, unwilling to take her eyes off the immediate threat that was me.

 _Hey, bloodsucker._ She greeted me directly now, trying to get a hint of recognition out of me, but still, I did not respond.

I had expected the anger to lash out of Beau again, but when he spoke, his voice floating over my head, the tone was demure, even pained. "Jules, _why_? It isn't like you to do something like that…"

The wistful, tender affect of his voice punctured her overstated audacity like a silver bullet, and the fight whistled out of her.

"I…" She stammered. "I thought it was for the best." She fought to ignore the intensity of his tortured gaze. _She's no good for you_ , she moaned, _Why can't you see that I'm so much better?_

"What's for the best?" Beau demanded, "Driving Charlie even closer to the brink than he already was? He'll probably kill me now, y'know. I was already in enough trouble. Not to mention what'll it'll do to his stress levels. Really, Jules. How could you?"

Unexpected guilt washed through her, caught her off guard. _I… I had to try to keep her away from you… She's dangerous. Grounding was the only way…_

Rather than argue _that_ ridiculous point, I decided that now was as good a time as any to reveal my gift. "She didn't think the consequences through; she wasn't trying to hurt anyone—she only wanted to see you grounded to prevent you from seeing me."

 _Bitch! Get out of my head!_

Her fists clenched tighter, her knuckles turning a jaundiced shade of yellow.

Beau sighed. "Newsflash, Jules—already grounded here. Now you've just gone and made it worse. Why did you think I haven't made it down to La Push to read you the riot act for ignoring my calls yet?"

This threw her, too, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Immature was right.

 _What…?_ she thought, _Already grounded? But… I thought it was_ her _keeping him away._ She glared at me. "Grounded?" she repeated dumbly, "That's why?" She tried to mask her embarrassment quickly, but I wasn't about to let her off so easily.

"She was under the impression that I was keeping you away," I divulged to Beau.

"Quit it," she snapped at me, childishly.

My cocked eyebrow blatantly conveyed the equally juvenile retort: _Make me_.

In reaction to my haughty leer, the girl's control shuddered and wavered—along with her physical body. I braced myself, thinking through my options quickly if she were to phase. Taking Beau and running would only incite a chase—but amputating one of her legs might give me enough time to get Beau to safety.

With a hard exhale, she momentarily gathered herself, staying the compulsion.

"Beau _really_ wasn't exaggerating about you," she hissed, twisting the words into what sounded like an insult. "So." She took another, steadying breath, clenching her teeth against the urge to slump forward. "I guess you already know why I'm here, then." _The treaty states—_

"Yes," I interrupted her, aware of the irony of the situation. After all, _she'd_ broken the treaty she'd been so intent on having _me_ see through. But erroneous as she was, I could not deny that every one of her instincts seemed to revolve around Beau's safety and happiness. And for that reason, there was one task that I must complete before the ensuing conversation got underway. "But first—there's something I need to say to you…" I paused. "Thank you." I instilled as much sincerity into the short phrase as I could, guessing that she would not take my gratitude at face value.

Her surprise momentarily shut down her offensive reflexes, and I took advantage of that to continue: "Thank you for being here for Beau when I was not, for keeping him safe and healthy and happy. My appreciation goes farther than words can articulate."

Beau's hand came around to squeeze my fingers—drawing Julie's gaze—and the gesture was soothing, comforting, when he should have been reprimanding me.

Surprising us both—and making Beau jump—the wolf girl laughed harshly and without humor. "You're kidding me." She glared down at me, well aware of her height. "I didn't do it for _you_."

"I know," I acknowledged, "But either way, I am in your debt. If there is ever anything I can do for you…" I let the offer hang in the damp air between us, loath to open myself to such vulnerability, but knowing she deserved it all the same.

Julie raised one perfectly arched and feathered brow to sneer at me. _Go to hell, where you belong. As far away from here as you can get yourself._

I should have known this would be her only request. "I can't do that."

"The hell you can't," she snapped through locked teeth.

"It's true," I insisted, "I'm here until Beau sends me away." I turned to gaze up into his cerulean gaze, careful to keep Black in my peripheral vision, always defensive. "And if he has no intention of doing so, then here I will stay." I needed to remind him of the fact, knowing he may need many more reminders.

His pulse jumped, and I hoped he believed me.

The wolf girl's thoughts grew uncomfortable and awkward when Beau bowed toward me, bathing me in his sweet, succulent breath.

The awful choking sound she made wasn't nearly as sweet as Beau's would-be kiss, but it was satisfying, nonetheless. Beau blinked, and turned a scathing glare on her.

"Was that all, Julie?" he snapped, "Or did you need something else?"

While she spoke to him, her eyes remained on me. "I'm just here to remind your little black widow here of a few key points in our treaty."

I gazed at her without expression. "We remember."

"Key points?" Beau repeated, confused.

 _Aw,_ the girl taunted me, _And here I thought you told your sweet Beau_ _ **everything**_ **.**

"Just one, really—'cause you know the rest. Stay off our land, don't hunt humans, yadda yadda…"

"Quite stalling, Jules," Beau snapped.

She turned her calculating, onyx gaze back on me. "Just one more thing. Possibly the most important thing. Should you tell him, or should I?" She was mocking me again, guessing at where my intentions for his outcome lay. I didn't tell her she was wrong. Let her think she had the upper hand. For now.

"Go ahead," I retorted coolly.

This time, she turned her eyes on Beau. "If one of them even bites a human— _ **bites**_ **,** not kills—then the treaty is moot."

Beau's temper betrayed his true intentions. "What—" he blurted, "That's none of your business!"

"The hell it—!"

Julie Black's smug thoughts froze in a hard block of ice, and then shattered. As much as Beau's desire to become a monster sickened me, it brought the wolf girl even more agonizing disgust. She'd incurred the jab to get a reaction out of me—it had never crossed her mind that we would have any intention of seeing the possibility to life.

Her thoughts were a chaotic, fractured mess—incoherent and indistinct.

I had never witnessed the phasing of a shape shifter, but this girl was clearly on the verge. I watched warily, cautiously, as every part of her began to vibrate at an astonishing rate, the tremors possessing her entire body.

She curled halfway forward, clutching her head in between her hands as she struggled to regain control. The shudders snaked themselves down her spine and along her arms, and as I watched, the ghost of rust-colored fur appeared on the surface of her skin like a fine layer of lanugo.

The intensity of her furious thoughts was unmatched—I had never heard anything like it—and she attempted desperately to control her raging instincts. In the midst of her shattered thoughts, she was very aware that Beau stood not ten feet from her, and that she could hurt him. But the other part of her mind, the banal, primal instinct part of her mind, was very aware that _I_ stood in front of him, and as much as she didn't want to harm Beau, she _did_ want to harm me.

"Jules?" Beau took an unthinking, foolish step forward. "You okay?"

"Careful!" I snapped, snatching him by the arm to yank him behind me again, "She's not in control!"

Surprisingly, something in my action brought a frisson of clarity into her mind. At an astonishing rate, she seemed to calm, the tremors subsiding, and her thoughts gradually formed a more predictable pattern once more. Though the incapacitating rage was no loner apparent, her bloodcurdling hate for me was still present.

"Give it up, _snake_ ," she hissed at me. _Don't fool yourself into thinking you're protecting him—you soul-stealing succubus!_ "I'm not gonna hurt him."

Her barb struck a nerve, and in direct response, I could feel my temper rising. With a low, sharp hiss, the crux of my self-hatred surfaced, finding easy target in the woman-child in front of me. I may have owed her much for keeping Beau well in my absence, but I was definitely not above throwing her down if she attempted to come any closer.

The shape shifter clenched her fists, glaring blackly at me. _Bring. It. On._

"BEAU! YOU GET IN THIS HOUSE THIS INSTANT!"

Charlie had stepped onto the front porch with his keys, and had seen my car.

 _He just saved your life, little leech._

I scoffed very quietly. "Actually, I think it was yours he spared," I corrected her under my breath.

Her vulgar retort brought a very small smile to my lips.

Beau groaned. "Crap."

"I'm sorry," she said now, turning suddenly apologetic eyes on him, "I didn't mean… I just… I had to try something."

Beau glanced apprehensively toward the trailhead. "Thanks a lot…"

One other detail suddenly came to recall, and I turned toward the girl, whose thoughts were now forlorn.

"One more thing. We've found no trace of Victor on our side—have you, on yours?"

She answered numbly, unsure on why it mattered—why _much_ mattered. "The last time we saw him was while Beau was—" She faltered, remembering the intensity in Beau's eyes, wilder than she'd seen them. _"Jules, I_ _ **have**_ _to go_ ," he'd beseeched her as her eyes swam with tears. _"_ away. We let him think he was in the home stretch—we were tightening the ambush, getting ready to take him down, but then he just took off like a bat out of hell or something. As far as we can tell, he must have smelled your scrawny male's scent and bolted. He hasn't been back since."

As she recalled the occurrence of events for me, I caught the glimpses of the forest I'd never seen—on their side of the boundary line—the scent of Victor as perceived through their noses, and the pack's collective bafflement when he had disappeared, seemingly into thin air. They hadn't had much luck tracking him, either, and I wondered if it was more than just happenstance. Maybe Victor _did_ have a second affinity for escape… But that was something to ponder over at a later date, with Jess and Eleanor. With Jessamine's help, Victor would _not_ escape my clutches again. And this time— _I_ would be the one to send his head rolling.

I nodded, pleased and grateful for her cooperation. "When he comes back, don't worry about it. He's no longer your responsibility. We'll take charge of things from here."

"He killed on _our_ turf!" the woman child raged. In her memory, through eyes that were too far up off the ground, I saw the trail of maimed body parts and blood, and then detected the overwhelming odor of vampire, dousing what was left of the human corpse Victor had mutilated. _That sadistic bastard!_ "He's _ours_!"

Beau started to say something, maybe to protest, but again, Charlie shattered the silence. " _BEAU_! I _SEE_ HER CAR AND I _KNOW_ YOU'RE OUT THERE! IF YOU AREN'T _INSIDE_ THIS HOUSE IN _ONE_ MINUTE…!" Charlie couldn't think of a black enough warning to end his threatening sentence.

"I think we should go," I urged, and turned to put my hand on Beau's lower back, guiding him back toward the break in the trees, watching my own back through Julie Black's eyes. From her vantage point, I saw when Beau glanced back, over my head, to peer at her with soft, sad eyes.

 _Is this goodbye?_ Julie wondered. "Sorry," she said again, and tried, unsuccessfully, to swallow the lump in her throat. "Bye, Beau."

Beau came to a full stop then, stubbornly refusing to move. "Still friends, right?" he asked her, eyes troubled.

Why was she so important to him? Perplexed, I tugged, but he resisted again.

The girl wondered the same thing, and she swallowed thickly again, running her tongue along her teeth, behind her lip, in an attempt to tame the hot, welling tears. Slowly, she shook her head. "I've tried, Beau," she croaked, "I don't see how I can keep… Trying… Things are different now…" Her breath hitched, and she clenched her fists against the onslaught of emotion. "I'll miss you," she breathed, and lifted a single out-stretched hand, toward him.

In her head, she remembered what it had been like to hold his hand while they walked down the rocky beach I'd never seen in person. How it had felt to sit beside him in his truck as they drove down the 101.

Cold horror clamped down hard in my stomach when Beau turned toward her, hesitating. Automatically, my arm restrained him. I could see the sadness in his eyes, the woeful desperation. Was it the loss of his friend he was so morose over…? Or was there more here that I was missing…?

As if to answer my question, Julie Black's mind conjured an image, a fantasy… A memory?

She and Beau stood in the Swans' tiny kitchen. She felt dirty, covered in a film of grime and dust from all the patrolling she'd been doing. In the memory, she saw herself flush with his chest, her hands braced on his shoulders, his cobalt gaze searing into hers… Their faces were just inches apart.

The cramp in my stomach twisted and tore.

 _I love you,_ she thought, _Come on… Choose me… Choose ME._

Noxious revulsion, toxic possessiveness poisoned my bloodstream. My gaze was shrouded in a crimson veil, and I automatically pulled back when he took a step toward her.

He turned to gaze down at me, his hand landing, feather soft, on my restraining arm. "Don't worry," he murmured softly, "It's okay."

His motives were innocent, I told myself. He only wanted to comfort her. He couldn't see the selfish way she twisted his emotions, to draw him to her. He couldn't see how beguiled she was, just how wrongly she would interpret the friendly embrace he wanted to give her.

It was no longer her dangerous volatility I feared, but the strength of her infatuation.

"No, it's not."

I wouldn't allow her to manipulate his compassion like this, to twist their friendship into something it wasn't, and never would be.

"What's your _problem_?" Julie snarled at me. _You have no hold over him anymore. Give it up._ "Let him do what he wants!" Closer than ever to combusting into the lethal wolf than ever, she took an angry step toward us, just a quivering, indistinct shape with fractured, furious thought.

But what he wanted in this moment could possibly leave him permanently maimed, and I was entirely unwilling to put him in the path of possible harm.

The wolf girl's mind was an intangible flurry of rageful epithets and death threats, and I had had enough of her relentless insults.

She strode toward me now, half girl, half wolf, and I prepared to launch myself at her.

She was ready to fight, and so was I.

The venom inundated my mouth—not to feed, but to poison. The taste of her rancid blood would be worth the probable effect. Quileute legend claimed vampire venom was lethal to the wolves, and I had no reservations about testing that theory.

"Edythe, don't—!" Beau shouted as I shifted into an offensive position.

Just as Julie Black was about to give herself over to the reflex of the change, a human bellow interrupted us.

"BEAUFORT _SWAN_!"

I wondered if Charlie would ever know he'd just inadvertently deflected a war between supernatural species.

Beau, frantic, yanked me from my crouch. "C'mon, let's go!" he urged. "Charlie's gonna kill me!" But it was easy to assume it was not his father's ire that frightened him. He looked frantically between the two of us, and I wondered whose wellbeing he yearned for more.

With a measured lungful of air, the wolf girl literally pulled herself together, and the shimmering air around us was still again.

 _This isn't the end, black widow._

"Not even close," I agreed as Beau and I retreated slowly. I kept my body parallel between him and the threat of the child, always keeping my eyes on her.

She did a valiant effort of keeping her carefully composed mask in place, but just before we rounded the curve that would take us out of site, her face crumpled, and she sagged in morose defeat.

The grief was so sudden and so potent in her mind, it was as if Beau had died right in front of her.

 _Bye, Beau…_

She'd rather imagine him dead than as a rabid ice sculpture. That way, she wouldn't be forced to tear him to pieces when the treaty was predictably broken.

Instead, she let the trembling possess her now, and I heard the sharp tear of clothing as she exploded out of her bodily form into feral animal.

Before her forepaws had touched the forest floor, there were suddenly three more mental voices inside her head—all distinct and separate.

 _Jules! God—there you are! Where'd you run off to?_

 _Are you in FORKS?_ another asked, _Girl, you are so totally busted!_

 _What the hell have you DONE?_ a third voice intoned. There was a strange echo to this one, authoritative and louder than the others. This had to be Sam Uley, and I memorized her mental voice deliberately.

I wondered if there were more wolves masquerading as girls out there, or if this was it… Should it come down to an eventual war, it would be advantageous to know their numbers.

The trees blurred past Julie's vision as she thudded through the forest. _I'm on my way back—it's worse than we thought, guys…_

As her thoughts faded, I turned my attention back to Beau, who stared ahead of us with his jaw set. But I could see the fear flickering in his eyes, and the way his shoulders curled inward, as if to shelter his fragile heart.

I felt bereft, desperately wanting to comfort him, but not knowing quite how. There were no platitudes that would ease his grief, pain or anxiety. But there was _one_ thing that was true.

"I'm here." I squeezed his hand to affirm my statement. "I'm not going anywhere."

Beau drew a slow breath, his eyes drifting to mine. After a moment, he eased his arm over my shoulders, and turned us toward the house as we broke through the trees.

Charlie's purple face was visible from where he waited for his son on the front porch, but his presence didn't touch the sphere of my awareness.

Beau and I moved as one across the lawn—not only physically, but emotionally, mentally. The fact that I could gain no access to his mind was irrelevant—and it had been for a long time. I'd come to know him in such an intimate way that I could guess at his words before he said them, assume his emotions before he felt them.

And in that moment, the knowledge that filled him, filled me: There was only one path for us now, one future, one hope. And it was a path that we would walk hand in hand.

No matter what the future held for us: war, peace, matrimony, immortality, or even death, only one thing mattered: that we face it together.

.

 **A/N:** Et… Voila! Darkest Hour is done and dusted—I can brush my hands of the inescapable black depression, but Edythe won't quite allow me to let go of the guilt yet ;) Can't blame her, I guess.

Umm, so like I said, Eclipse is my favorite and my least favorite, purely for the sake of Edward's/Edythe's jealousy. TBH, Edward pissed me off more than a couple times, but it's so weird to see it differently when I'm writing from Edythe's perspective.

You'll see the subtle changes I make along the way—because I really do think jealousy works differently in girls than it does in guys. Edward was always very possessive and almost macho about his relationship with Bella when it came to Jacob, but you'll see Edythe acts a little differently.

If you're interested, I've posted the Eclipse playlist over on my 8tracks account ahead of time, so go over and give it a like and listen while you wait for the Prologue. ( 8tracks wintersunshine/mixes/1)

Also, double check that you have me on AUTHOR alert, and not just STORY alert, so you'll be notified when the Prologue goes up. I said over a week, but I really highly doubt it'll even take me that long—just have to come up with a title I don't hate. I've gone through like three different possibilities already, and I just can't seem to come up with something appropriate!

I love you guys so much, and thankyouthankyouthankyou from the bottom of my heart for all the love and support you've given me! Exploring these characters and writing their story has truly given me such purpose this year. It was a very bad season for my mental health, but writing has always had a way of bringing me up out of it—and Beau and Edythe's story has done that even moreso than usual.

So thank you for the support. Thank you for the love, and thank you for the follows. Thank you, especially, for loving these characters as much as I do—I love that my writing can bring a little bit of love and excitement to all of your days.

I'll see you all SOON! xoxo

Madi.


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